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class TpVMnL 

Book ±iA_ 







MEDITATIONS /^v^^ 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



JAMES HEKVEY, A.M. 



TO WHICH IS PREFIXED, 

THE LIFE OF THE AUTHOR. 



NEW YORK: 

ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS, 

530, Broadway. 






PK&SSWORK BY JOHN WILSON AND SON. 



$9 TfaWaf 

P.O. Dept. 
Mar23 06 





MEMOIRS 

OF 

THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 

, GT THE 

REV. JAMES HERVEY, A. M. 




ERHAPS few men were ever better 
known by their writings, or less 
known in the common circles of 
society, than the Rev. James Her- 
vey, the subject of these Memoirs. 
At all times he w T as studious and 
contemplative ; generally he was 
sequestered in a country village ; 
and often he was confined by sickness and 
great languor. He had no taste for the amuse- 
ments or the converse of the generality of 
the world. The particular events of his life 
were not diversified with much variety of 
circumstance ; but the temper of the man, 
the course of his studies, the bent of his 



MEMOIRS OF 



mind, and the benevolence of his heart, exhibit a most 
useful lesson, and may be partly discovered in his va- 
rious works. 

He was born, February 14, 1714, at Hardingstone, a 
village near Northampton, where the family had resided 
some time. His father was rector of Weston Favell and 
Collingtree, both in that neighborhood. The Herveys 
were an ancient and opulent family in that country, for- 
merly having large possessions at Hardingstone and at 
Weston : an ancestor of their's had been a judge ; and 
Mr. Hervey's great-grandfather represented the tow T n of 
Northampton in Parliament. Mr. J. Hervey had the 
peculiar advantage, which never can be too much valued, 
of being descended from a pious and respectable family. 

He had two brothers and three sisters. His brothers 
settled in London, and deserved the characters of re- 
spectable tradesmen ; one was a packer, whom he at- 
tended in his last illness ; the other was a wine mer- 
chant, who survived him many years. His mother 
superintended the first part of his education, and taught 
him to read. At seven years of age he was sent, with 
his brother, to the free grammar school, at Northampton, 
of which the Rev. Mr. Clarke, vicar x of St. Sepulchre's, 
in that town, was the master. 

With a common share of school learning, with but 
little knowledge of the world, and with general impres- 
sions of piety, young Mr. Hervey was entered at Lincoln 
College, Oxford. One of the joint tutors at that time 
was the Rev. Richard Hutchins, afterwards rector of that 
college ; a man of abilities, integrity and piety, reserved 
in his manners, but who perplexed the refinements of a 
strong but not a brilliant mind with philosophical neces- 
sity, and called the attention of the public to the sup- 
posed fate of children dying in their infancy, from the 
good or the evil which God knew or foreknew they 
would have done, had they been permitted to live. A 
long life and a placid old age was the reward of his 
temperance and regularity. 

His other tutor was the Rev. J. Wesley. Few men 



THE REV. MR. HERVEY. 



have ever lived who have caused more conversation, or 
excited more censure or applause : but now the subject 
is removed, and the mist of prejudice and the glare of 
partiality are gradually dying away. In love with a col- 
lege life it is no wonder that he attracted the notice and 
encouraged the literary pursuits of young Hervey : he 
frequently read and conversed with him out of the cus- 
tomary hours of lecture ; he prescribed to him a plan of 
very early rising and of strict discipline, which would 
not agree with every constitution. 

At college Mr. Hervey became particularly attached 
to Kiel's Anatomy, to Derham's Astro and Physico Theo- 
logy, and to the Spectacle de la Nature. He acknow- 
ledged much obligation in the improvement of his style 
to Spence's Essay on Pope's Odyssey. By these means 
he laid that foundation for a general knowledge in the 
various and wonderful works of nature, which he after- 
wards was so successful to apply in displaying the great- 
ness of the Author of nature, and in illustrating the wis- 
dom of his sacred Word. 

About this time he attempted to learn the Hebrew 
language, without any other help than the Westminster 
Grammar; but the unexpected difficulties discouraged 
him ; and, for a time, he relinquished the attempt rather 
than the intention. Afterwards he became a proficient 
in that ancient, if not most ancient, language : that he 
might thus be better enabled to teach others, and to 
draw purer water from the wells of salvation. 

The period of ordination when a new and important 
character is assumed, was a season of much thought and 
reflection, of prayer and solemn resolutions, to fulfil the 
interesting obligations which he was entering into. Mr. 
Hervey was ordained the 19th of September, 1736, by 
Dr. Potter, then bishop of Oxford ; when he voluntarily 
relinquished an exhibition of 20Z. per ann., which he 
received from college, thinking that it would be unjust 
to detain that necessary help to defray the academical 
expenses which another might stand in greater need of. 

At the first he assisted his father, but afterwards 



MEMOIRS OF 



served the curacy of Dummer, in the county of Hamp- 
shire, in which he continued about twelve months. He 
then paid a visit to a college acquaintance L aul Orch- 
ard, Esq., of Stoke Abbey, in Devonshire, a gentleman 
of eminent worth and piety ; to whose son he stood god- 
father, and for whose particular imitation he has drawn 
the character of his excellent parent. While on a visit 
with Mr. Orchard, he w r as induced, for the enjoyment 
of such society, at the request of the parishioners, who 
approved his preaching, and at the appointment of the 
aged and infirm rector, to undertake the curacy of Bid- 
deford, in that county, at the yearly salary of 40/. As 
a mark of their affection and esteem, the congregation 
of themselves added 20/. per annum. Yet this, with 
some small allowance from home, was often inadequate 
to the various claims on his benevolence ; and although 
he was exceedingly temperate and frugal in all his ex- 
penses, yet he was often obliged to straiten himself, to 
supply the more pressing wants of others. 

In this pleasing retreat he faithfully and cheerfully 
discharged his parochial duties, preaching two or three 
times on a Sunday, and on the Wednesday and Friday 
expounding the Epistle and Gospel of that week : the 
remainder of his time was spent in enriching his mind, 
in improving his heart, and in partaking the pleasure of 
Christian and social conversation, which Mr. Hervey 
was well calculated to improve and to enjoy. 

His character was now forming ; and the impulse of 
indignant zeal was sometimes suppressed by the timidity 
or modesty of youth, when he was offended, if not di- 
rectly insulted, by profane or obscene conversation in 
his presence. He entertained a most tender sense of 
the interest of religion, and a deep concern for men's 
spiritual welfare ; therefore, he was grieved and dejected 
whenever the hours of social intercourse were polluted 
by obscene mirth, or degraded by sarcastic ridicule on 
religion. A wise man will prefer the completest solitude 
before society so degraded ; a society from which he is 
glad to escape, although amidst the sneers of the scoffers ; 



THE REV. MR. HERVEY. 



and he reproaches himself for more than time lost ; he 
sinks in his own esteem. Mr. Hervey's character was 
soon so established for piety, and his conduct animated 
with such becoming zeal, that he was not again likely to 
be offended by meeting with such conversation. 

Mr. Hervey cultivated friendship as the means of pro- 
moting religion. One of his choicest friends at Bidde- 
ford, was Miss Jane Burnard, a pious and distinguished 
Christian, who died, in the flower of her age, of a lin- 
gering consumption. Mr. H. paid the last respect to 
her amiable and excellent character, by preaching her 
funeral sermon. 

Whilst residing at this place he contracted the too 
seducing habit of sitting up late to pursue his beloved 
studies. Late hours at night must intrude on the morn- 
ing ; and the bright and fresh hours of the opening day 
are more favorable to health of body, and to the exer- 
tions of mind. Knowledge may be purchased at too 
high a price ; and, surely, to endanger health, and to 
undermine a tender constitution, is to forget the great 
purpose of life, while indulging in a mental intemper- 
ance. This habit w T as afterwards corrected. 

On the death of his rector, in 1742, he left the curacy 
of Biddeford ; and, on a final separation from such a 
pastor, it is but natural to expect that the regret should 
be mutual, particularly when he delivered his farewell 
sermon. He was so much approved by the congrega- 
tion, that they not only requested the rector to permit 
him to continue in the curacy, but they offered to pay 
the whole of his san, r v by voluntary contribution. 

In this place he forced the plan of his Meditations.* 
From Biddeford he removed to Weston Favell, where 
he officiated as his father's curate. 

In the year 1746, he attracted much general attention 
by the publication of his Meditations among the Tombs, 
Reflections on a FJower-Garden, and a Descant on Crea- 



* The scene of them is laid at Kilkhampton, in Cornwall ; and m 
a ride to that place he first entertained the idea of such a work. 



8 MEMOIRS OF 



tion. The year following produced the second volume, 
containing Contemplations on Night, and the Starry Hea- 
vens, and a Winter-Piece. A particular account can 
scarce be necessary of a work so generally read and ad- 
mired. Mr. Hervey displays great and general know- 
ledge, which he always usefully applies to enlarge the 
mind, to elevate the heart, and to promote the purest 
morality and devotion. In many of his writings he com- 
bines the descriptive, powers of Thomson with the 
sublime reflections and moral energies of Young. 

About the year 1750, he occasionally resided in Lon- 
don, at his brother's, to try the benefit of change of air, 
to be relieved from top sedentary a life, and to enjoy the 
converse of religious friends. Here he was attacked by 
a violent fever, and once escaped the calamity of fire, 
which destroyed the adjoining house. 

On the death of his aged father, in May, 1752, he 
succeeded him at length in the two family livings of 
Weston Favell and Collingtree, about five miles dis- 
tance from one another, which did not produce above 
160Z. per annum together. He had some scruples at the 
first on accepting the latter living ; and it was some time 
before he took it : but every scruple of the most upright 
mind may not be reasonably formed, and ought not to 
be pertinaciously adhered to. The livings were near 
each other ; and, if Mr. Hervey was compelled to keep 
a curate, which was more than probable, from his in- 
creasing infirmities and the precarious state of his health, 
one living would not have supplied his necessary ex- 
penses, on the most frugal plan. On this account he 
complied with the repeated wishes of his mother and 
friends ; took his degree of Master of Arts at Cam- 
bridge, having been admitted of Clare Hall, and was 
presented with the living of Collingtree. 

He next published his Remarks on Lord Boling- 
broke's Letters on the Study and Use of History, so far 
as they relate to the History of the Old Testament, and 
especially to the case of Noah denouncing a Curse upon 
Canaan, in a Letter to a Lady of Quality. 



THE REV. MR. HERVEY. 



In 1753, he preached the sermon at the archdeacon's 
visitation at Northampton ; and published it for the 
benefit of a poor afflicted child, under the title of The 
Cross of Christ the Christian's Glory. 

In the same year he wrote a recommendatory Epistle 
to i Bumham's Pious Memorials, or the Power of Reli- 
gion on the Mind in Sickness and at Death, exemplified 
in the experience of many eminent persons at those im- 
portant seasons. 5 

But his most favorite work, and on which he bestowed 
uncommon pains and attention, were the Dialogues, and 
the Letters of Theron and Aspasia, on most of the lead- 
ing subjects of the Gospel, but particularly on the mode 
of salvation by the imputation of the righteousness of 
the Saviour. 

The next year he enlarged on the commendation he 
had passed on Marshall's Gospel Mystery of Sanctifica- 
tion, which was published as a Preface to it. 

The same year he also published a new edition of his 
favorite author, Jenks's Devotions, with a Preface, in 
which he strongly recommends them. 

This year he printed his three Sermons on the General 
Fast. As a preacher Mr. Hervey was eloquent, ener- 
getic, and animated : his manner was striking, but never 
vulgar and low. He seemed to forget his feeble frame 
and his delicate constitution, while more immediately 
engaged in his Master's service, and laboring for the 
best interests of men. 

Of Mr. Hervey's piety, devotion, zeal, charity, and 
knowledge, there will be but one opinion ; yet it will 
not thence follow that every sentiment which he enter- 
tained was equally true and important. A distinction 
must always be made between the integrity of a man's 
life and the truth of his opinions : here we are more im- 
mediately and pleasingly concerned with the former. 

His more particular friends were some of the first re- 
ligious characters of the time ; in which class are to be 
reckoned Lady Frances Shirley, the Rev. George White- 
field, Rev. William Romaine, Rev. Philip Doddridge, Rev. 



10 MEMOIRS OF 



J. Ryland, and Dr. Stonhouse, his physician, who after- 
wards entered into holy orders, by his particular advice. 

His life was a practical comment on his writings : an 
example of what a Christian ought to be ; marked by 
the sincerest devotion to God, the most sacred regard to 
his holy Word, and a conscientious attention to all his 
various duties as a pastor, a son, a brother, and a friend. 

With strong natural powers, and much acquired learn- 
ing, he was yet modest, humble, and diffident ; lowly 
in his own eyes, and making much of those who feared 
the Lord. He was particularly solicitous for the spiritual 
improvement of the patients in the Northampton in- 
firmary, and frequently visited them when his declining 
health would permit him. 

Mr. Hervey for many years had struggled with much 
weakness and languor ; was frequently confined by 
severe fits of sickness : but in the latter end of the year 
1758, he grew worse. On the first Sunday in Decem- 
ber, after family prayer in the evening, he was seized so 
extremely ill, that his dissolution was apprehended to be 
very near : with great difficulty he was got up stairs, and 
after that never left his room. The cramp returned 
with violence. He was grievously afflicted with a hectic 
cough in the night, that obliged him to rise very early. 
He was sensible of his danger, yet was willing to use 
proper means to mitigate the pain, and to prolong life. 
On the 15th of December, he complained of a pain in 
his side, for which, at his own desire, he was blooded ; 
but the surgeon, perceiving his weakness and danger, 
took but a small quantity of blood. Mr. Maddock, his 
curate, was much with him ; to whom he pathetically 
spoke of his assurance of faith, and of the great love of 
God in Christ. " How much," says he, " has Christ 
done for me, and how little have I done for so loving a 
Saviour ! If I preached even once a week, it was at 
last a burden to me. I have not visited the people of 
my parish as I ought to have done, and thus have not 
preached from house to house. I have not taken every 
opportunity of speaking for Christ." 



THE REV. MR. HERVEY. n 

These expressions were accompanied with tears. 
" But," says he, " do not think that I am afraid to die ; 
[ assure you I am not. I know what my Saviour hath 
done for me, and I want to be gone. But I wonder 
and lament to think of the love of Christ in doing so 
much for me, and how little I have done for him." 
And in another conversation, calmly speaking of his ap- 
proaching dissolution, and our ignorance of the sacred 
word, he observed, " How many precious texts are there, 
big with the richest truths of Christ, which we cannot 
comprehend, of which we know nothing ; and of those 
we do know, how few do we remember! A good 
textuary is a good divine : that is the armor ; the word 
of God is the sword. They are the weapons I must use 
when that subtle spirit, the arch-adversary of mankind, 
comes to tempt and sift me in my last conflict. Surely 
I had need be well provided with these weapons : I had 
need have my quiver full of them, to answer Satan with 
texts out of the word of God when he assaults me." 

On the 19th, the pains of his body abated, but he 
grew drowsy and lethargic : and in the night his disso- 
lution was expected. 

The next day he was visited by his worthy friend Dr. 
Stonhouse, who declared his opinion that Mr. Hervey 
could not survive above two or three days. And speak- 
ing of the consolations which a good man enjoys in the 
prospect of death, Mr. Hervey replied, " True, Doctor, 
true : the only valuable treasures are in heaven. What 
would it avail me now to be archbishop of Canterbury ? 
Disease would show no respect to my mitre. That prelate 
(Dr. Seeker) is not only very great, but I am told he has re- 
ligion really at heart : yet it is godliness and not grandeur, 
that will avail him hereafter. The Gospel is offered to 
me, a poor country parson, the same as to his grace. 
Christ makes no difference between us. Oh ! why then 
do ministers thus neglect the charge of so kind a Sa- 
viour, fawn upon the great, and hunt after worldly pre- 
ferments with so much eagerness, to the disgrace of our 
order. These, these are the things, doctor, and not our 



12 MEMOIRS OF 



poverty or obscurity, which render the clergy so justly 
contemptible to the worldlings. No wonder the service 
of our church, grieved I am to say it, is become such a 
formal, lifeless thing, since it is, alas ! too generally ex- 
ecuted by persons dead to godliness in all their conver- 
sation ; whose indifference to religion, and worldly- 
minded behavior, proclaims the little regard they pay to 
the doctrines of the Lord who bought them." 

When the doctor was going away, Mr. Hervey re- 
minded him of a dangerous fall from his horse which he 
had met with not long before, by which he had been 
much bruised ; and observing that he looked pale, he 
hoped he would think on such narrow escapes, so often 
fatal to others, as a warning to him from God, and re- 
member them as such ; adding, "How careful ought we 
to be to improve these years which remain, at a time 
of life when but few can remain to us!" At that time 
both were turned of forty. 

On the 25th, his curate paying him his morning visit, 
Mr. Hervey, sitting in an easy chair, for he was unable 
to lie in bed, said, " Sir, I cannot talk with you to-day." 
He complained much of a great inward conflict which 
he had ; and, laying his hand on his breast, said, " Oh ! 
you know not how great a conflict I have." During this 
time his eyes were almost constantly elevated to heaven, 
and his hands clasped in prayer ; he frequently said, 
" When this great conflict is over, then" — but added no 
more. 

Dr. Stonhouse came to him about three hours before 

he expired ; to whom he strongly urged the importance 

of his everlasting concerns, as here is no abiding place ; 

and entreated him not to be overcharged with the cares 

of this life ; but, in the multiplicity of his business, to 

attend to the one thing needful : 

" Which done, the poorest can no wants endure ; 
And which not done, the richest must be poor." 

The doctor observing the difficulty with which he 
spoke, from the phlegm which oppressed him, and find- 
ing by his languid pulse that his dissolution was near, 



THE REV. MR. HERVEY. 23 

desired that he would spare himself. " No, Doctor, no," 
was his reply ; ii you tell me that I have but a few mo- 
ments to live : Oh ! let me spend them in adoring our 
great Redeemer." He then said, " Though my heart, 
and my flesh fail me, yet God is the strength of my 
heart, and my portion forever." He expatiated, also, on 
those words, All things are yours, the treasure of a Chris- 
tian. Death is reckoned among this inventory, and a 
noble treasure it is. How thankful am I for death, as it 
is the passage through which I pass to the Lord and 
Giver of eternal life ; and as it frees me from all this 
misery you now see me endure, and which I am willing 
to endure, as long as God thinks fit ; for I know he will, 
in his own good time, dismiss me from the body. These 
light afflictions are but for a moment ; and then comes an 
eternal weight of glory. Oh ! welcome, welcome, Death. 
Thou mayest well be reckoned among the treasures of 
the Christian. To live is Christ, but to die is gain." 

When the doctor was taking his final leave, Mr. Her- 
vey expressed great gratitude for his visits, though me- 
dicine had been unable to relieve him. He then paused 
a little, and with great composure, although the pangs 
of death were upon him, said, Lord, now lettest thou thy 
servant depart in peace, according to thy most holy and 
comfortable word, for mine eyes have seen thy precious 
salvation. " Here, doctor, is my cordial: what are all 
the cordials given to support the dying, in comparison 
of that which arises from the promises of salvation by 
Christ? This, this supports me." About three o'clock, 
he said, " The great conflict is over: now all is done." 
After which, he scarce spoke any words intelligibly, 
except, now and then, precious salvation. During the 
last hour he said nothing, but leaned his head against 
the side of an easy chair ; and, without the least strug- 
gle, expired between four and five o'clock in the after- 
noon, on Christmas day, 1758, in the forty-fifth year of 
his age : on that day when he had so often displayed the 
mercy and dignity of his Redeemer. 

He was interred three days afterwards, under the 



14 MEMOIRS OF 



middle of the communion table, in the chancel of Wes- 
ton Favell. His funeral was exceedingly plain, accord- 
ing to his particular request, but numerously attended 
by his pious and affectionate relations ; by a grateful and 
sorrowful congregation, deeply lamenting the loss they 
had sustained. This was the only monument which he 
desired ; and, indeed, for many years there was no me- 
morial of the place of his sepulture, until his excellent 
and only surviving sister, caused the following to be in- 
scribed on the place where his body was deposited : 

Here lie the Remains 
of the Rev. James Heryey, A. M. 

(late Rector of this Parish) 

That very pious Man, 
And much admired Author, 
Who died, Dec 25th, 1758, 
In the 45th year of his age. 

Reader, expect no more to make him known, 
Vain the fond elegy and figured stone : 
A name more lasting shall his writings give ; 
There view displayed his heavenly soul, and live. 

The mind finds a melancholy but pleasing satisfaction 
in contemplating the latter end of the righteous : the 
death bed of the good man is a privileged spot ; we 
dwell with attention on his last moments, and are pleased 
with every new proof of the sincerity of his devotion 
and the confidence of his hopes. 

As a clergyman, Mr. Hervey performed all the duties 
of his station in the best and strictest manner. Not con- 
tent with the public duty on a Sunday, he established a 
lecture on Wednesday evening, except during hay-time 
and harvest. The expense of lighting the church during 
the winter months he paid out of his own pocket, that 
he might not put the parish to any expense. But, for 
some time before his death, he was unable to make the 
usual change with his curate at Collingtree ; to visit his 
parishioners from house to house ; or to continue his 
w r eekly lecture. Perhaps this might give him too much 
concern ; but it is a difficult task, with the desire of 
being useful, quietly to submit to be laid aside. 



THE REV. MR. HERVEY. 15 

He preached on Sundays to numerous and very at- 
tentive congregations ; many of whom came from very 
distant parts. His voice was very clear and harmonious, 
though not strong ; and he was a very excellent reader, 
as well as preacher. He always preached without notes, 
or those very short ones, except on some particular occa- 
sions. When his strength would permit him, he gene- 
rally preached about an hour ; and his discourses were 
judicious, clear, and free from any vain repetitions. In 
his public addresses, he studied simplicity and plain- 
ness : he did not wish to captivate by the elegance of 
his language, or the display of the variety and the ex- 
tent of his learning ; but to inform the most ignorant, to 
interest the careless, and to do good to all. 

In catechising the children, he was affectionate, fami- 
liar, and engaging ; leading them by short and pertinent 
questions, to think for themselves, and to understand 
what they said. Observing some of his parishioners in- 
dolent on a Sunday morning, or engaged in secular con- 
cerns, he thus catechised the children on the fourth com- 
mandment : " Do they keep holy the Sabbath day who 
lie in bed till eight or nine o'clock in the morning, in- 
stead of rising to say their prayers, and read the Bible?" 
" No, sir." " Do those keep the Sabbath w r ho fodder 
their cattle when other people are going to church?" 
" No, sir." " Does God Almighty bless such people who 
go to alehouses, and do not mind the instruction of their 
minister?" " No, sir." " Don't those who love God 
read the Bible in their families, particularly on Sunday 
evening, and have every day family prayers, morning 
and evening, in their houses?" " Yes, sir." In this 
easy and simple manner did he lead the young mind, 
and guard them against the conduct of parents or mas- 
ters who ought to have set them a better example. 

Mr. Hervey's deep humility was a constant protection 
to him : he was always watchful over himself, and was 
never known to be in a passion. When he was unjustly 
aspersed, he would say, " Our enemies are sometimes 
our best friends, and tell us truths ; and then we should 



16 MEMOIRS OF 



amend our faults, and be thankful for such information : 
and if ..hat they say be not true, and only spoken through 
malice, then such persons are to be considered as dis- 
eased in mind, and we should pray for them. They are 
to be pitied ; and I might as justly be angry with a man 
who is diseased in body." 

His gratitude to God and man was very great and 
uniform : the least acts of kindness called forth the most 
lively expressions of thankfulness from him. 

Although he had collected much knowledge, and was 
able to shine with scholars, yet he often submitted his 
writings to be corrected by those who were far inferior 
to himself; and he w T as never better pleased than when 
several alterations were made. His industry and appli- 
cation will appear the more extraordinary when it is con- 
sidered, that in the latter years of his short life he was 
seldom free from languor and pain ; his constitution 
being very delicate, and suffering from every cold and 
exertion. In these states he exhibited the useful ex- 
ample of meekness and resignation, patiently submitting 
himself to the Divine disposal. 

His numerous writings, and the success which they met 
with, formed a source of charity which was entirely ap- 
propriated to the poor and needy ; and yet this was not 
equal to the extent of his benevolence. He was literally 
his own executor ; and, at the last, desired, if there was 
any money remaining, it might be distributed in warm 
clothing to the poor at that inclement season. 

Mr. Hervey was never married, although he highly 
approved of that estate ; and often said, that he should 
certainly have married, but from his continued ill health 
and infirmity. 

He was fond of the exercise of riding on horseback, 
as favorable to meditation and health, which he pai- 
took of when the weather and his strength would permit 
him. 

With every part of learning, either ornamental or 
useful, he was well acquainted. He made no small pro- 
ficiency in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin; and, indeed, 



THE REV. MR. HERVEY. 17 

composed with ease in the last. But all his attainments 
were devoted to the service of religion ; and he regarded 
no book, and no subject, but as it might advance the 
great object which he had constantly in view. 

His family worship w r as regular and exemplary : he 
made the servants read a portion of the Scriptures, on 
which he occasionally made short, pertinent, and useful 
remarks, which he expected they should recollect when 
he questioned them again : this was followed by earnest 
and humble prayer. 

Few characters, in ancient or modern times, have 
combined more excellencies, or displayed more virtues, 
than Mr. J. Hervey ; whether we consider his sincerity 
as a friend, his zeal as a divine, his knowledge as a 
scholar, his mildness and patience, his charity and love, 
as a man and a Christian. 



VERSES TO MR.HERVEY, 

OX HIS 

MEDITATIONS. 



1 N these loved scenes, what rapt'rous graces shine. 
Live in each leaf, and breathe in every line ! 
to) What sacred beauties beam throughout the whole, 
To charm the sense and steal upon the soul ! 
In classic elegance, and thoughts — his own, 
We see our faults as in a mirror shown : 
Each truth, in glaring characters express'd, 
All own the twin resemblance in their breast ; 
His easy periods, and persuasive page, 
At once amend, and entertain the age : 
Nature's wide fields all open to his view, 
He charms the mind with something ever new : 
On fancy's pinions, his" advent'rous soul 
Wantons unbounded, and pervades the whole : 
From death's dark caverns in the earth below, 
To spheres where planets roll, or comets glow. 

See him explore with more than human eyes, 
The dreary sepulchre, where Granville lies: 
Converse with stones, or monumental brass, 
The rude inscriptions, — or the painted glass: 
To gloomy vaults descend with awful tread, 
And view the silent mansions of the dead. 

To gayer scenes he next adapts his lines, 
Where lavish nature in embroid'ry shines : 
The jasmine groves, the woodbine's fragrant bow'rs 
With all the painted family of flow'rs: 
There, Sacharissa ! in each fleeting grace, 
Read all the transient honors of thy face. 

With equal dignity now see him rise 
To paint the sable horrors of the skies ; 
When all the wide horizon lies in shade, 
And midnight phantoms sweep along the glade : 
All nature hush'd — a solemn silence reigns, 
And scarce a breeze disturbs the sleeping plains. 



20 VERSES TO MR. HERVEY, 

Last, yet not less, in majesty of phrase, 
He draws the full-orb'd moon's expansive blaze ; 
The waving meteors trembling from on high, 
With all the mute artill'ry of the sky : 
Systems on systems, which in order roll, 
And dart their lambent beams from pole to pole. 

Hail, mighty genius ! whose excursive soul 
No bounds confine, no limits can control : 
Whose eye expatiates, and whose mind can ro^ a. 
Through earth, through aether, and the realms aK>ve : 
From things inanimate direct the rod,* 
In just gradation, to ascend to God. 
Taught by thy lines, see hoary age grows wise, 
And all the rebel in his bosom dies : 
E'en thoughtless youth, in luxury of blood, . 
Fly the infectious world, and dare — be good. 
Thy sacred truths shall reach the impervious heart ; 
Discord shall cease, disease forget to smart; 
E'en malice love, and calumny commend ; 
Pride beg, an alms, and av'rice turn a friend. 

Centred in Christ, who fires the soul within, 
The flesh shall know no pain, the soul no sin : 
E'en m the terrors of expiring breath, 
We bless the friendly stroke, and live — in death. 
Oxford, April 28, 1748. 




BY A PHYSICIAN. 

[ ELESTIAL meditant ; whose ardors rise 
Deep from the tombs, and kindle to the skies ; 
How shall an earthly bard's profaner string 
Resound the flights of thy seraphic wing? 
When great Elijah in the fiery car, 
Flamed visible to heaven, a living star, 
A seer remained to thunder what he knew, 
And with his mantle caught his spirit too. 

Wit, fancy, fire, and elegance, have long 
Been lost in vicious or ignoble song : 
Sunk from the chastely grand, the pure sublime, 
They flatter'd wealth and pow'r, or murder'd time. 
'Tis thine their devious lustre to reduce, 
To prove their noblest pow'r, their genuine use; 
From earth-born fumes to clear their tainted flame, 
And point their flight to heaven — from whence they came. 

* An allusion to the custom of showing curious objects, and particularising thei? 
respective delicacies, by the pointing of a rod. 



ON HIS MEDITATIONS. 21 

O more than bard in prose ! to whom belong", 
Harmonious style and thought, in rhymeless song : 
Oft, by thy friendly conduct, let me tread 
The softly whispering mansions of the dead : 
Where the grim form, calcining hinds and lords, 
Grins at each fond distinction pride records. 
Dumb, with immortal energy they teach; 
Lifeless, they threaten ; mould'ring as they preach 
To each succeeding age, through every clime, 
The span of life and endless round of time : 
Hence may propitious melancholy flow, 
And safety find me in the vaults of wo. 

While every virtue forms thy mental feast, 
I glow with fair sincerity at least : 
I feel (thy face unknown) thy heart refined, 
And taste, with bliss, the beauties of thy mind ; 
Collecting clearly, through thy sacred plan, 
What reverence of God ! what love to man ! 
— O ! when at last our deathless forms shall rise, 
And flowers and stars desist to moralize ; 
Shall then my soul, by thine inform'd, survey, 
And bear the splendors of essential day] 
But while my thoughts indulge the glorious scope, 
(My utmost worth beneath my humblest hope) 
Conscience, or some exhorting angel, cries, 
44 No lazy wishes reach above the skies, 
Would you indeed the perfect scenes survey, 
And share the triumphs of unbounded day ; 
His love-diflusive live, with ardor live, 
And die like this divine contemplative." 
London, July 9, 1748. 




BY A PHYSICIAN. 

| O form the taste, and raise the nobler part, 
To mend the morals, and to warm the heart ; 
To trace the genial source, we nature call, 

And prove the God of nature friend of all ; 

Hervey for this his mental landscape draw 

And sketch'd the whole creation out to view. 
Th' enamelled bloom, and variegated flower, 

Whose crimson changes with the changing hour ; 

The humble shrub, whose fragrance scents the morn, 

With buds disclosing to the early dawn ; 

The oaks that grace Britannia's mountains' side, 

And spicy Lebanon's superior pride ;* 

* The Cedar. 



22 VERSES TO MR. HERVEY, 

All loudly Sovereign Excellence proclaim, 
And animated worlds confess the same. 

The azure fields that form th' extended sky, 
The planetary globes that roll on high, 
And solar orbs of proudest blaze, combine, 
To act subservient to the great design ; 
Men, angels, seraphs, join the gen'ral voice, 
And in the Lord of nature all rejoice. 

His, the gray winter's venerable guise, 
Its shrouded glories, and instructive skies ;* 
His the snow's plumes that brood the sick'ning blade, 
His the bright pendant that impearls the glade ; 
The waving forest, or the whisp'ring brake : 
The surging billow, or the sleeping lake : 
The same, who pours the beauties of the spring, 
Or mounts the whirlwind's desolating wing ; 
The same who smiles in nature's peaceful form, 
Frowns in the tempest, and directs the storm. 

'Tis thine, bright teacher, to improve the age ; 
'Tis thine, whose life's a comment on thy page ; 
Thy happy page ! whose periods sweetly flow, 
Whose figures charm us, and whose colors glow ; 
Where artless piety pervades the whole, 
Refines the genius and exalts the soul : 
For let the witling argue all he can, 
It is religion still that makes the man. 
'Tis this, my friend, that streaks our morning bright ; 
'Tis this, that gilds the horrors of our night, 
When wealth forsakes us, and when friends are few 
When friends are faithless, or when foes pursue ; 
'Tis this, that wards the blow, or stills the smart; 
Disarms affliction, or repels its dart ; 
Within the breast bids purest rapture rise ; 
Bids smiling conscience spread her cloudless skies. 

When the storm thickens and the thunder rolls, 
When the earth trembles to th' affrighted poles ; 
The virtuous mind, nor doubts nor fears assail ; 
For storms are zephyrs, or a gentler gale. 

And when disease obstructs the lab'ring breath, 
When the heart sickens, and each pulse is death ; 
E'en then religion shall sustain the just, 
Grace their last moments, nor desert their dust. 

August 5, 1748. 

As some new star attracts th' admiring sight, 
His splendors pouring through the fields of light, 

* Referring to the Winter-Piece. 



ON KIS MEDITATIONS. 23 

Whole nights, delighted with th' unusual rays, 

On the fair heavenly visitant we gaze : 

So thy famed volumes sweet surprise impart, 

Mark'd by all eyes, and felt in every heart. 

Nature inform'd by thee, new paths has trod, 

And raises, here, a preacher for her God ; 

By fancy's aid mysterious heights she tries, 

And lures us by our senses to the skies. 

To deck thy style collected graces throng, 

Bold as the pencil's tints, yet soft as song. 

In themes, how rich thy vein ! how pure thy choice ! 

Transcripts of truths, own'd clear from Scripture's voice : 

Thy judgment these, and piety attest, 

Transcripts — read only fairer in thy breast. 

There, what thy works would show, we best may see, 

And all they teach in doctrine, lives in thee. 

Oh ! — might they live ! Our prayers their strife engage, 

But thy fix'd languors yield us sad presage. 
In vain skill'd medicine tries her healing art ; 
Disease, long foe, entrenches at thy heart. 
Yet on new labors still thy mind is prone, 
For a world's good too thoughtless of thy own ; 
Active, like day's kind orb, life's course you run, 
Its sphere still glorious, though a setting sun, 
Redemption opes thee wide her healing plan, 
Health's only balm, her sovereign'st gift to man. 
Themes, sweet like these thy ardors, fresh, excite : 
Warm at the soul, they nerve thy hand to write ; 
Make thy tried virtues in their charms appear, 
Patience, raised hope, firm faith, and love sincere : 
Like a big constellation, bright they glow, 
And beam out lovelier by thy night of wo. 

Known were thy merits to the public long, 
Ere own'd thus feebly in my humble song : 
Damp'd are my fires ; my heart dark cares depress ; 
A heart, too feeling from its own distress : 
Proud on thy friendship yet to build my fame, 
I gain'd my page* a sanction from thy name. 
Weak these returns (by gratitude though led,) 
Where mine shall in thy favorite leaves be read. 
Yet, o'er my conscious meanness hope prevails ; 
Love gives me merit, where my genius fails : 
On its strong base my small desert. I raise, 
Averse to flattery, as unskill'd to praise. 

MOSES BROWNE. _ 
Mile-End Green, February 23, 1749. 

* Sunday Thoughts. 




24 VERSES TO MR. HERVEY. 

HENCE flow these solemn sounds? this rapturous 
strain 1 
Cherubic notes my wandering ear detain ! 
Yet 'tis a mortal's voice : 'tis Hervey sings : 
Sublime he soars on Contemplation's wings: 
In every period breathes ecstatic thought. 
Hervey, 'twas Heaven thy sacred lessons taught : 
Celestial visions bless thy studious hours, 
Thy lonely walks, and thy sequester'd bowers. 

What favoring power, dispensing secret aids, 
Thy cavern'd cell, thy curtain 'd couch, pervades 1 
Still hovering near, observant of thy themes, 
In whispers prompts thee, or inspires thy dreams 1 
Jesus ! effulgence of paternal light ! 
Ineffably divine ! supremely bright ! 
Whose energy according worlds attest, 
Kindled these ardors in thy glowing breast. 
We catch thy flame, as we thy page peruse ; 
And faith in every object Jesus views. 
We in the blooming breathing garden trace 
Somewhat — like emanations of his grace : 
Yet must all sweetness and all beauty yield, 
Idume's grove, and Sharon's flowery field, 
Compared with Jesus: meanly, meanly shows 
The brightest lily, faint the loveliest rose. 

Divine instructor ! lead through midnight glooms, 
To moralising stars, and preaching tombs : 
Through the still void a Saviour's voice shall break, 
A ray from Jacob's star the darkness streak : 
To him the fairest scenes their lustre owe ; 
His covenant brightens the celestial bow ; 
His vast benevolence profusely spreads 
The yellow harvests, and the verdant meads. 

Thy pupil, Hervey, a Redeemer finds 
In boundless oceans, and in viewless winds ; 
He reins at will the furious blast, and guides 
The rending tempests, and the roaring tides. 
O give, my soul, thy welfare to his trust : 
Who raised the world can raise thy sleeping dust ! 
He will, he will, when nature's course is run, 
Midst falling stars, and an extinguish'd sun : 
He will with myriads of his saints appear. 
O may I join them, though the meanest there ! 

Though nearer to the throne my Hervey sings; 
Though I at humbler distance strike the strings ; 
Yet both shall mingle in the same employ, 
Both drink the fulness of eternal joy. JOHN DUICK. 
Clerkenwell-Green, February 24, 1749-50. 




ON HIS MEDITATIONS. 25 

^HAT numbers of our race survey 
3f The monarch of the golden day, 
Night's ample canopy unfurl'd 
In gloomy grandeur round the world, 
The earth in spring's embroidery dress'd, 
And ocean's ever-working breast ! . 
And still no grateful honors rise 
To Him who spread the spacious skies, 
Who hung the air-suspended ball, 
And lives, and reigns, and shines, in all ! 

To chase our sensual fogs away, 
And bright to pour th' eternal ray 
Of Deity, inscribed around 
Wide nature to her utmost bound, 
Is Hervey's task ! and well his skill 
Celestial can the task fulfil : 
Ascending from these scenes below, 
Ardent the Maker's praise to show, 
His sacred Contemplations soar, 
And teach our wonder to adore. 

Now he surveys the realms beneath — 
The realms of horror and of death ; 
Now entertains his vernal hours 
In flowery walks and blooming bowers; 
Now hails the black- brow'd night, that brings 
^Ethereal dews upon her wings ; 
Now marks the planets, as they roll 
On burning axles round the pole : 
While tombs, and flowers, and shades, and stars 
Unveil their sacred characters 
Of justice, wisdom, power, and love; 
And lift the soul to realms above, 
Where dwells the God, in giory crown'd, 
Who sends his boundless influence round. 

So Jacob, in his blissful dreams, 
Array'd m heaven's refulgent beams, 
Saw from the ground a scale arise., 
Whose summit mingled witn the skies : 
Angels were pleased to pass the road — 
The stage to earth, and path to God. 

Hervey, proceed ! for nature yields 
Fresh treasure in her ample fields ; 
And, its seraphic ecstasy, 
Still bears us to the throne on high. 
Ocean's wild wonders next explore, 
His changing scenes, and secret store ; 
Or let dire earthquake claim thy toll — 
Earthquake, that shakes a guilty isle. 



26 VERSES TO MR. HERVEY, 

So, if small things may shadow forth, 
Dear man, thy labors, and thy worth, 
The bee upon the flowery lawn, 
Imbibes the lucid drops of dawn, 
Works them in his mysterious mould, 
And turns the common dew to gold. 

THOMAS GIBBONS. 
London, May 26, 1750. 




iELIGHTFUL author ! whom the saints inspire, 
And whispering angels with their ardors fire ! 
From youth, like mine, wilt thou accept of praisfe 

Or smile with candor on a stripling's lays ! 

My little laurel (but a shoot at most) 

Has hardly more than one small wreath to boast : 

Such as it is — (ah ! might it worthier be !) 

Its scanty foliage all is due to thee. 

Oh ! if, amongst the honors of thy brow, 

This slender circlet may but humbly grow : 

If its faint verdure haply may find place — 

A foil to others — though its own disgrace ; 

Accept it, Hervey, from a heart sincere, 

And, for the giver's sake, — the tribute wear. 

Thy soul-improving works perused, what tongue 

Can hold from praise, or check the applausive song 1 

But ah ! from whence shall gratitude obtain 

Language that may its glowing zeal explain 1 

How to such wondrous worth adapt a strain] 

Described by thee, cold sepulchres can charm ; 

Storms calm the soul ; and freezing winter warm ! 

Clear'd from her gloomy shades, we view pale night 

Surrounded with a blaze of mental light. 

Lo ! where she comes ! all silent ! pensive ! slow ! 

On her dark robe unnumber'd meteors glow ! 

High on her head a starry crown she wears ! 

Bright in her hand the lamp of reason bears ! 

Smiling, — behold ! she points the soul to heaven, 

And bids the weeping sinner be forgiven ! 
But when thy fancy shifts tne solemn scene, 

And ruddy morning gilds the cheerful green : 

With sudden joy we view the prospect changed, 

And blushing sweets in beauteous order ranged : 

We see the violets, smell the dewy rose, 

And each perfume that from the woodbine flows ; 

A boundless perspective there greets our eyes ; 

Rich vales descend, and verdant mountains rise : 



ON HIS MEDITATIONS. 27 



The shepherds' cottages, the rural folds ; 
All that thy art describes, the eye beholds ! 

Amazing limner ! — whence this matchless power 1 
Thy work's a garden ! — every word a flower ! 
Thy lovely tints almost the bloom excel, 
And none but nature's self can paint so well ! 

Hail, holy man ! — henceforth thy work shall stand 
(Like some fair column by a master-hand, 
Which, whilst it props, adorns the towering pile) 
At once to grace and elevate our isle : 
Though simple, lofty ; though majestic, plain ; 
Whose bold design the rules of art restrain : 
In which the nicest eye sees noching wrong : 
Though polish'd, just ; and elegant, though strong. 

ST. GEORGE MOLESWORTH. 
June 24, 1750. 



EN pleasure's lap the muses long have lain, 
And hung, attentive, on her siren strain : 
Still toils the bard beneath some weak design 
And puny thought but halts along the line : 
Or tuneful nothings, stealing on the mind, 
Melt into air, nor leave a trace behind. 
While to thy rapturous prose, we feel belong 
The strength of wisdom and the voice of song : 
This lifts the torch of sacred truth on high, 
And points the captives to their native sky. 

How false the joys which earth or sense inspires, 
That clog the soul, and damp her purer fires ; 
Truths, which thy solemn scenes, my friend, declare, 
Whose glowing colors paint us as we are. 
Yet, not morosely stern, nor idly gay, 
Dull melancholy reigns, or trifles sway : 
111 would the strains of levity befit, 
And sullen gloom but sadden all thy wit : 
Truth, judgment, sense, imagination, join ; 
And every muse, and every grace, is thine ! 
Religion, prompting the true end of man, 
Conspiring genius executes the plan ; 
Strong to convince, and elegant to charm, 
Plaintive to melt, or passionate to warm : 
Raised by degrees, we elevate our aim ; 
And grow immortal as we catch thy flame : 
True piety informs our languid hearts, 
And all the vicious and the vain departs. 
So, when foul spreading fogs creep slowly on, 
Blot the fair morn, and hide the golden sun ; 



28 VERSES TO MR. HERVEY, &c. 



Ardent he pours the boundless blaze of day, 
Rides through the sky, and shines the mist away. 

O, had it been the Almighty's gracious will, 
That I had shared a portion of thy skill ; 
Had this poor breast received the heavenly beam, 
Which spreads its lustre through thy various theme ; 
That speaks deep lessons from the silent tomb, 
And crowns thy garden with fresh springing bloom ; 
Or, piercing through creation's ample whole, 
Now sooths the night, or gilds the starry pole : 
Or marks how winter calls her howling train, 
Her snows and storms, that desolate the plain ; 
With thee the muse should trace the pleasing road, 
That leads from nature up to nature's God ; 
Humble to learn, and, as she knows the more, 
Glad to obey, and happy to adore. 

PETER WHALLEY. 
Northampton. Aitghw* ?£, 1750. 



CONTENTS. 



MEDITATIONS AMONG fHG TOMBS. 

FAOB 

Memoirs of the life and writings of Mr. Ilervey • . .3 

Poetical addresses to Mr. Hervey . . . • ,19 

Occasion of the Meditations, solitary walk in a church • . 45 

Handsome altar-piece ; gratitude celebrated . . . .46 

Solomon's temple ; his noble sentiments at the dedication ; the passage 
illustrated . . . . . • . .47 

The Holy Ghost dwelling in our hearts ; a rich privilege ; an obliga- 
tion to holiness . • . • . • .49 

The floor covered with funeral inscriptions • . . .50 

Wisdom of meditating on our latter end • . • .51 

Promiscuous lodgment, and amicable agreement of corpses, suggests 
humility and concord . . . . . . .52 

Monument of an infant ; its fortunate circumstances ; superior felicity 
of survivors . . . . . . . .53 

Monument of a youth ; grief of the parents ; mitigated or aggravated 
by the prospect of the invisible state ; exhortation to educate chil- 
dren religiously . . . . . . .55 

Monument of a young man cut off in his prime ; how unexpected 
and afflictive the stroke : the frailty of ail sublunary happiness . 56 

Reflections on the three preceding exits ; the uncertainty of life ; call 
to be always ready . . . . . . .59 

This farther urged from the instance of a person killed by a misfor- 
tune ; nothing casual ; but all ordered by Providence . . 60 

Case of a lady, who died in childbed; her character; with regard 
• to earthly things, we know not what is really desirable, or truly 
good . • • • • • . . .63 



30 CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Remarks on Mrs. Stonehouse's monument, in the great church at 
Northampton . . . . . . . .65 

A religious father taken from his young family ; his behavior on a 
dying bed ; their support in a fatherless state . . .68 

Monument of a middle aged person, immersed in business ; disappoint- 
ment of his schemes ; his dying acknowledgments ; the folly of 
worldly -nrindedness ; very bitterness in the end . . .71 

The graves of the aged ; the difficulties and hazard of a late repen- 
tance ; youth entreated to enter upon a course of holiness without 
delay . . . . . . . . .74 

The singular wisdom and felicity of the righteous ; the rest of their 
bodies ; the calmness of their departure ; the safety of their disem- 
bodied souls ; their delightful situation till the judgment day . 76 

Monument of a warrior, slain in battle ; reflections on the death of 
Christ, that it was voluntary, foreseen, undergone for enemies ; was 
most torturous, lingering, and ignominious . . . .80 

The meanness of being obliged to a monument for perpetuating 
our names; author's wish for himself; true method of eternizing 
our character . . . . . . . .82 

The vault: its awful aspect ; grandeur in abasement; the vanity of 
pleasures, honors, and riches . . . . .86 

The clock strikes ; a warning to redeem the time . . .88 

The wonderful change which takes place in the tomb, displayed in 
several particulars . . . . . .89 

Soliloquy of a lover ; admonition to the ladies ; true beauty of the 
fair sex . . . . . . .91 

Sin the cause of our dissolution . . . .93 

Subject of mortality brought home to our own case ; incitement to 
improve life ; this the best embalming . . . .94 

View of our Saviour's sepulchre ; his lying in the grave has softened 
it for his people ; faith in his dying love disarms death . . 95 

The resurrection of the righteous ; their meeting the Judge ; their 
acceptance at the great tribunal . • • . - 98 

Sickness, sin, and death destroyed ; bliss or misery unchangeable ; 
observation on eternity . . . . . .99 

The wicked ; the anguish of their last sickness. No hope but from 
the religion they despised ; that very precarious ; the horror of their 
dissolution ; this the beginning of sorrows ; their treatment in the 
invisible world ; reserved to the judgment of the great day . 101 

They rise, though reluctant ; are distracted with terror ; covered with 
contempt; coudemned to endless woe . . . . 104 

To be instrumental in sa\ ing our fellow-creatures from this misery, 
the truest exercise of benevolence . . . 106 

A reflection on the vast importance of these truths ; a persuasive to act 
under the believing consideration of them ; enforced by the inex- 
pressible necessity of preparing for them .... 107 

The whole closes with a view of the present security, and future glory 
of the righteous . . . . . . 103 



CONTENTS. 31 



REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 

PAGE 

Walk in the garden ; summer morning ; a soaring lark ; invitation to 
early rising ........ Ill 

Vastness of the heavens, greater extent of divine mercy • . 112 

T!e sun ; it3 rising glories ; emblem of Christ, in its enlightening, 
fructifying, cheering, and extensive influences . . . 114 

Dews ; their transient brightness ; their refreshing nature ; their 
immense number; difficult passage in the Psalms cleared up . 119 

Tiie various, but harmonious procedure of Providence and grace . 123 

View of the country and its principal productions ; particularly of an 
orchard and kitchen garden ; chiefly characterized as useful . 125 

Uhrist, made and recovered, upholds and actuates all; address to 
mankind on this occasion ...... 120 

Observations contracted to the garden ; fields of literature left for the 
study of the Bible . . . . . .134 

Fragrance of flowers ; its fugitive nature, another motive to shake oft' 
sloth ; the delightful sensation it creates, a faint representation of 
Christ's sacrifice , all our oerformanees polluted ■ this the cause of 
our acceptance ..»..., 135 

Colors of flowers, how perfect in every kind ; with what skill dis- 
posed ; fineness of the flowery texture ; inducement to trust in 
Providence . . . . . . . 138 

The folly of pride in dress ; our true ornaments displayed . . 140 

Flowers naturally inspire delight ; what pleasure must arise from the 
beatific vision . . . . . . .141 

Solomon pictures out the blessed- Jesus by the most delicate flowers ; 
beauties in the creature lead us to the Creator . . . 142 

Diversity of flowers, in their airs, habits, attitudes, and lineaments ; 
wisdom of the Almighty Maker ; the perfection and simplicity of his 
operations ........ 144 

Difference between individuals of the same species, emblem of the 
smaller differences among Protestants .... 147 

Regular succession of flowers ; some of the choicest sets described ; 
pleasing effects produced by this economy ; a benevolent Provi- 
dence apparent in conducting it . . . . . 149 

This beautiful disposition, and all that is admirable in the creation, 
referred to Christ as the author; to consider the things that are 
made, in this view, has excellent influence on our faith and love . 153 

The structure of flowers so correct, could not be altered, but to their 
prejudice ; the time of their appearing chosen with the nicest pre- 
caution ; these circumstances a striking argument for resignation to 
the disposals of Heaven . . . . . . 155 

Quotations from Casimir and Juvenal, translated . . . 157 

A favorite tenet of Mr. Pope's, rightly stated .... 158 

The brute creatures unaffected with flowers; their fine qualities 
peculiarly intended to delight mankind; all things constituted 



32 CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

with a particular regard to our advantage; this, an endearing 
obligation to gratitude ; but a more engaging motive is the gift of 
an immortal soul ....... 159 

Remark on the notion of a great poet ..... 162 

The cultivated garden, an image of a well-nurtured mind ; address to 
persons concerned in the education of youth . • . 165 

Flowers in the bud, figurative of a niggard ; flowers in full expansion, 
expressive of a benevolent disposition .... 167 

Sun-flower; its remarkable attachment to the sun; such should be 

our adherence to the Saviour ..... 169 

Passion-flower ; its description ; with a religious improvement . 170 

Sensitive plant ; shrinks from every touch ; such should be our 
solicitous care to avoid sin • . . . . .174 

The delicacy of flowers, and coarseness of their roots; the ennobling 
change of our bodies at the resurrection ; this should reconcile us to 
the thoughts of dissolution . . . . . . 176 

Passage from Theocritus ; the perfections of flowers soon decay ; the 
charms of complexion scarce more lasting . 178 

Instances of transitory continuance in the noblest flowers ; the honors 
of the future state unfading ...... 179 

All the delights of the flowery season pass away ; the celestial enter- 
tainments know no end ...... 180 

Not flowers only, but the most durable things in nature, are perish- 
ing ; their felicity stable, who have God for their portion . . 182 

Retreat into an arbor ; practice of St. Augustine, pattern for our 
imitation ; coolness of this shady situation ; the insufferable heat that 
rages abroad ; our safety in all the dangers of life, and amidst the 
terrors of eternal judgment, if sheltered by the Redeemer's protec- 
tion, and interested in his merits • . . . . 183 

The bees ; their ingenuity ; their industry ; set an example for the 
author ........ 185 

A distant prospect of the whole scene, with its various decorations, 
reminds the beholder of heaven : its glories not to be described, but 
most passionately desired ...... 186 



A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 

Design of the whole — Angels — The visible heavens — Stars — Comets — 
Planets — Sun — Moon — Thunders — Lightnings — Clouds, wintery and ver- 
nal — Rainbow — Storms and Tempests — Pestilence — Heat and Cold — 
Ocean— Woods and Shrubs — Vine and Fruit trees — Meadows and Fields 
— Mines and Jewels — Fountains and Rivers — Birds — Bees — Silkworm — 
Cattle, and creatures in every element — General Chorus of praise. 



CONTENTS. 33 



CONTEMPLATIONS ON THE NIGHT. 

PAGE 

A delightful evening walk ; the unmolested enjoyment of such plea- 
sures, owing to our late victory over the rebels • • • 225 
The setting sun ....... 229 

Twilight ; its usefulness ; serious consideration • • . 230 

The dewy coolness : its beneficial influence on nature ; returns of 

solitude equally useful to man • . • • . tb, 

Angels our spectators ; God ever present ; comfortable improvement 
of this truth ........ 233 

The day ended ; the swiftness, the shortness, of time ; the work to 
be done while it lasts ; to squander it away the most destructive 
extravagance ....... 236 

The profound silence ; universal cessation of business • . 239 

The variations of nature, pleasing and advantageous . • • 243 

Darkness ; the obliging manner of its taking place ; wild beasts of the 
desert, and savages in human shape, make use of this opportunity . 244 

Darkness renders the least spark visible ; yet steals from our sight 
all the lovely distinction of things ..... 247 

Sleep; its cheering nature; the gift of Heaven; fine preparatives 
for its approach ; the kindness of Providence in guarding our 
slumbers ........ 250 

Dreams; their unaccountable oddness ; many people's waking thoughts 
no less chimerical ....... 252 

A very singular and happy circumstance, attending sleep and dreams 254 

Ghosts; our unreasonable timorousness on this occasion; the true 
object of fear ; the reality and design of apparitions, deduced from a 
passage in Job ....... 256 

The owl ; its gloomy disposition ; unholy persons incapable of relish- 
ing the delights of heaven ...... 260 

Owl screaming supposed to be a token of death; the many real 
presages of this great change ; due preparation pointed out, and 
pressed ........ 262 

The nightingale ; her charming song ; entertains the lovers of retire- 
ment ; how to have a sweeter melody in our own breasts . . 264 

The very different circumstances of mankind, particularly of the 
gay and the afflicted; address to the devotees of mirth and 
sensuality ........ 265 

The glow-worm and ignis fatuus ; the pleasures of the world, and 
powers of unenlightened reason ..... 268 

A comet, imagined to be the forerunner of judgments ; licentiousness 
abounding in a nation a much more formidable omen ; the distemper 
among the cattle ....... 27D 

Northern lights ; the panic they occasion ; the general conflagration 272 

The mOon rising; brightens as she advances; such should be our 
moral conduct ....... 274 



34 CONTENTS. 



• PAGE 

Moon opens a majestic scene ; how worthy our admiration . . 276 

Moon, a most serviceable appendage to our globe • • . 277 

Moon shines with derivative light ; Christians receive their all from 
their Saviour ....... 278 

Moon always varying , the things of this world liable to perpetual 
vicissitudes; our own righteousness unequal and imperfect, our 
Redeemer's complete, and always the same . . . 279 

Moon under an eclipse ; gazed at by multitudes ; the faults of eminent 
persons seldom escape observation .... 283 

Moon reflected by the ocean ; the virtues of persons, in distinguished 
stations, influential on others . . . . . 284 

Moon actuates the sea ; the everlasting joys of heaven attract and 
refine the affections ...... 285 

Prayer, a reasonable service ; praise, a delightful duty ; with devout 
recollections proper for the night ..... 286 



CONTEMPLATIONS ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 

Walk on the summit of a hill. The advancing night withdraws the 

rural prospect ; opens the beauties of the sky . . . 293 

Fragrance of the blooming beans • • 294 

The heavens, a noble field for the display of the divine perfections . 295 
Folly of judicial astrology ; right use of contemplating the stars . 296 

A sketch of the most remarkable discoveries of our modern as- 
tronomy ........ 297 

Religion and necessary business ; religion and innocent pleasure as 
consistent as the annual and diurnal motions of the earth . . 298 

The sun, its enormous size •••••• 300 

Stars, the centres of systems ; their inconceivable distance . . 301 

Other skies furnished with other stars ... . • 302 

The greatness of the Creator . • • • . . i6. 

The preceding observations inculcate humility; show the littleness 

of terrestrial things ....... 303 

The stupendous condescension of God, in his gracious regards to the 

children of men ....... 305 

The prodigious heinousness of human guilt .... 307 

The richness of Christ's atonement, and its complete sufficiency for 

the most deplorable cases of sin and misery • . . 309 

The power of God manifested in the starry heavens ; this the Chris- 
tian's constant safeguard, and sure resource . . . 312 

The miserable condition of the ungodly, who have omnipotence for 
their enemy . . . 9 . . . . 315 



CONTENTS. 



pies 

The unwearied patience of this Almighty Being . • .316 

The wisdom of God displayed in the skies ; submission to his dispen- 
sations, even when they seem most frowning and severe ; all spring 
from love, and will terminate in good .... 318 

The goodness of God diffused through the vast system of created 
things, but far more illustriously exemplified in the work of redemp- 
tion ; the former view gives a most amiable, the latter a perfectly 
ravishing, idea of the divine beneficence .... 322 

The purity of God faintly represented by the unspotted firma- 
ment ; the defilement of sinful man ; the immaculate excellence 
of his Surety . . . . . . .327 

The unmeasurable dimensions of the sky; the greater extent of 
the divine bounty and mercy ; the last of these subjects, being 
so peculiarly comfortable to sinners, considered somewhat co- 
piously . . . . • . . 331 

What sustains the arch of heaven, and supports the globes it contains ; 
the same invisible hand upholds the Christian in his course . 337 

The faithfulness of God portrayed in the stability of the heavenly 
bodies, and perpetuity of their motions; the unreasonableness of our 
unbelief; motives to an assured faith .... 340 

Various attributes of the divine nature appear, with a glimmering 
light, in the celestial luminaries; all shine forth, with the fullest 
lustre in Christ Jesus ...... 343 

The dignity of prayer, and happiness of having God for our portion ; 
the horrible ingratitude, and destructive perverseness, of living 
without God in the world ...... 348 

All the rolling worlds on high punctually obedient to their Maker's 
orders; are a pattern, in this respect, and a provocative to the 
rational creation ....... 349 

The gradual appearance of stars ; and progressive state of a true 
conversion ........ 351 

The multitude of stars, especially in the Galaxy ; the more attentively 
surveyed, the greater number discovered; this applied to the 
unsearchable treasures of wisdom in the Scriptures, of merit in 
Christ, of bliss in heaven ...... 355 

The celestial bodies disposed in such a manner, as to be delightful 
and serviceable to man, adorn his abode, and measure his time ; 
a silent admonition this to improve the talent . . . ib. 

Brightness of the stars ; encouragement to fidelity in the ministerial 
office . , . .. . . . . 3f 8 

Polar star ; its invariable situation ; guide to the ancient mariners ; 
such the word of God to our souls; persuasive to follow un- 
erring dictates ....... 360 

Variety in the magnitude and splendor of the stars ; different degrees 
in the world of glory ; yet all the blessed completely happy . 361 

Projection and attraction, the grand principles that actuate the plane- 
tary system ; faith and love bear much the same proportion in the 
economy of Christianity ...... 363 



36 CONTENTS. 



PA«1 

The admirable effects, and extensive influences, of attraction; the 
agency of the Holy Ghost on the human mind . . . 365 

Vast gradation in the scale of beings ; all are objects of the divine 
care, and full of the divine presence • 369 

The surpassing worth of an immortal soul ; a solicitude for its final 
welfare urged . • . . . • • . . 372 

An unthinking view of the skies is affecting ; much more a rational 
and devout one ....... 374 

The scantiness of our knowledge, with regard to the celestial bodies ; 
after all our search, they are objects of admiration rather than of 
science ; exhortation to such pursuits as are of easy attainment, and 
will be of everlasting advantage ..... 375 

Short recapitulation of the whole ; and a hymn of praise, suited to 
the occasion ........ 376 

N. B. It may seem unaccountable to an unlearned reader, that astrono- 
mers should speak such amazing things, and speak them with such an air 
of assurance, concerning the distances and magnitudes, the motions and 
relations of the heavenly bodies. I would desire such a person to consider 
the case of eclipses, and with what exactness they are calculated. They 
are not only foretold, but the very instant of their beginning is determined : 
the precise time of their continuance, is assigned ; assigned, almost to the 
nicety of a moment : and, what is still more surprising, for the space of 
hundreds or thousar ds of years to come. — As this is a matter of fact, abso- 
lutely indisputable, it is also a very obvious, yet solid demonstration, that 
the principles of science, on which those calculations proceed, are not mere 
conjecture, or precarious supposition, but have a real, a certain foundation, 
in the nature and constitution of things. 



A WINTER-PIECE. 

Introduction — Shortness of the winter's day — Incessant rain, producing 
a flood — Tempest ; its effects, at land, by sea — Pitchy darkness ; riding in 
it — Thick rime — Keen frost, and serenity of weather — Severe cold, and 
piercing winds — Deep snow — General thaw — Evergreens — Storm of hail- 
Rainbow. 



HERVEY'S 

MEDITATIONS 



AND 



CONTEMPLATIONS. 



TO MISS R*** T***. 



MADAM, 

These Reflections, the one on the deepest, the other on the gayest 
scenes of nature, when they proceeded privately from the pen, were 
addressed to a lady of the most valuable endowments ; who crowned 
all her other endearing qualities, by a fervent love of Christ, and an 
exemplary conformity to his divine pattern. She, alas ! lives no 
longer on earth ; unless it be in the honors of a distinguished cha- 
racter, and in the bleeding remembrance of her acquaintance. 

It is impossible, Madam, to wish you a richer blessing, or a more 
substantial happiness, than that the same spirit of unfeigned faith, 
the same course of undefiled religion, which have enabled her to 
triumph over death, may both animate and adorn your life. And 
you will permit me to declare, that my chief inducement in request- 
ing your acceptance of the following Meditations, now they make a 
public appearance from the press, is, that they are designed to cul- 
tivate the same sacred principle, and to promote the same excellent 
practice. 

Long, Madam, may you bloom in all the vivacity and amiableness 
of youth, like the charming subject of one of these Contemplations. 
But at the same time remember, that, with regard to such inferior 
accomplishments, you must one day fade, (may it prove some very 
remote period !) like the mournful objects of the other. This con- 
sideration will prompt you to go on, as you have begun, in adding 
the meekness of wisdom, and all the beauties of holiness, to the graces 
of an engaging person, and the refinements of a polite education. 

And might — O! might the ensuing hints furnish you with the 
least assistance, in prosecuting so desirable an end; might they 
contribute, in any degree, to establish your faith or elevate your devo- 
tion ; they would then administer to the author such satisfaction, as 
applause cannot give, nor censure take away ; a satisfaction, which 
I shall be able to enjoy, even in those awful moments, when all that 
captivates the eye is sinking in darkness, and every glory of this 
lower world disappearing forever. 

These wishes, madam, as they are a most agreeable employ of 
my thoughts, so they come attended with this additional circum- 
stance of pleasure, that they are also the sincerest expressions of 
that very great esteem, with which I am, 
Madam, 

Your most obedient, most humble servant, 

JAMES HERVEY 

Weston Favell, near NoBTKAkpTON, Mat 20, 1746L 



PREFACE. 



The first ot these occasional Meditations begs leave to remind 
my readers of their latter end; and would invite them to set, 
not their houses only, but, which is inexpressibly more needful, 
their souls, in order ; that they may be able through all the 
intermediate stages, to look forward upon their approaching exit 
without any anxious apprehensions ; and, when the great change 
commences, may bid adieu to terrestrial things, with all the 
calmness of a cheerful resignation, with all the comforts of a 
well-grounded faith. 

The other attempts to sketch out some little traces of the 
all-sufficiency of our Redeemer for the grand and gracious pur- 
poses of everlasting salvation : that a sense of his unutterable 
divinity and infinite perfections, may incite us to regard him with 
sentiments of the most profound veneration; to long for an 
assured interest in his merits with all the ardency of desire ; and 
to trust in his powerful mediation, with an affiance not to be 
shaken by any temptations, not to be shared with any performances 
of our own. 

I flatter myself, that the Thoughts conceived among the Tombs 
may be welcome to the serious and humane mind: because, as 
there are few who have not consigned the remains of some dear 
relations or honored friends to those silent repositories, so that 
this is the house appointed for all living, and that they themselves 
are shortly to remove into the same solemn mansions. And who 
would not turn aside, for awhile, from the most favorite amuse- 
ments to view the place where his once loved companions lie? 
Who would not sometimes survey those apartments where he him" 
self is to take up his abode till time shall be no more ) 

As to the other little essay, may I not humbly presume that the 
very subject itself will recommend the remarks ] For who is not 



4J PREFACE. 



delighted with the prospect of the blooming creation, and even 
charmed with the delicate attractions of flowers'? Who does not 
covet to assemble them in the garden, or wear them in a nosegay ] 
Since this is a passion so universal, who would not be willing to 
render it productive of the sublimest improvement 1 This piece 
of holy frugality I have ventured to suggest, and endeavored to 
exemplify, in the second letter ; that, while the hand is cropping 
the transient beauties of a flower, the attentive mind may be en- 
riching itself with solid and lasting good. And I cannot but en- 
tertain some pleasing hopes, that the nicest taste may receive and 
relish religious impressions, when they are conveyed by such 
lovely monitors ; when the instructive lessons are found, not on 
the leaves of some formidable folio, but stand legible on the fine 
sarcenet of a narcissus ; when they savor not of the lamp and re- 
cluse, but come breathing" from the fragrant bosom of a jonquil. 



MEDITATIONS 

AMONG 

THE TOMBS. 



Every Stone lhat we look upon, in this Repository of past Ages 
is both an Entertainment and a Monitor. 

Plain Dealer, vol. i. No. 42. 




MEDITATIONS 

AMONG 

THE TOMBS. 



IN A LETTER TO A LADY. 



ADAM, 

Travelling lately into Cornwall, 
I happened to alight at a con- 
siderable village in that county ; 
where finding myself under an 
unexpected necessity of staying 
a little, I took a walk to the 
church* The doors, like the 
heaven to which they lead, were 
wide open, and readily admitted an un- 
worthy stranger. Pleased with the oppor- 
tunity, I resolved to spend a few minutes 
under the sacred roof. 

In a situation so retired and awful, I 
could not avoid falling into a train of medi- 
tations, serious and mournfully pleasing; 
• I had named, in some former editions, a particular church, viz. 




46 MEDITATIONS, 



which, I trust, were in some degree profitable to me, 
while they possessed and warmed my thoughts ; and, if 
they may administer any satisfaction to you, Madam, 
now they are recollected, and committed to writing, I 
shall receive a fresh pleasure from them. 

It w^as an ancient pile ; reared by hands, that, ages 
ago, were mouldered into dust ; situate in the centre of 
a large burial ground; remote from all the noise and 
hurry of tumultuous life ; the body spacious ; the struc- 
ture lofty ; the whole magnificently plain. A row of re- 
gular pillars extending themselves through the midst; 
supporting the roof with simplicity and with dignity. 
The light that passed through the windows, seemed to 
shed a kind of luminous obscurity, which gave every 
object a grave and venerable air. The deep silence 
added to the gloomy aspect, and both heightened by the 
loneliness of the place, greatly increased the solemnity 
of the scene. A sort of religious dread stole insensibly 
on my mind, while I advanced, all pensive and thought- 
ful, along the inmost aisle : such a dread as hushed 
every ruder passion, and dissipated all the gay images 
of an alluring world. 

Having adored that Eternal Majesty, who, far from 
being confined to temples made with hands, has heaven 
lor his throne and the earth for his footstool, I took par- 
ticular notice of a handsome altarpiece ; presented, as I 
was afterwards informed, by the master builders of 
Stow f out of gratitude, I presume, to that gracious God, 

Ktlkhampton ; where several of the monuments described in the 
following pages, really exist. But as I thought it convenient to 
mention some cases here which are not, according to the best of my 
remembrance, referred to in any inscriptions there, I have now 
omitted the name, that imagination might operate more freely, and 
the improvement of the reader be consulted, without any thing that 
should look like variation from truth and fact. 

* The name of a grand seat, belonging to the Earl of Bath ; re- 
markable formerly for its excellent workmanship and elegant fur- 
niture ; once the principal resort of the quality and gentry of the 
West ; but now demolished, laid even with the ground and scarce 
one stone left upon another; so that corn may grow, or nettles 
spring, where Stow lately stood. 



AM/I.NG THE TOMBS. 47 

who carried them through their work, and enabled them 
to " bring forth their topstone with joy." 

! how amiable is gratitude ! especially when it has 
the Supreme Benefactor for its object. I have always 
looked upon gratitude as the most exalted principle that 
can actuate the heart of man. It has something noble, 
disinterested, and (if I may be allowed the term) gener- 
ously devout. Repentance indicates our nature fallen, 
and prayer turns chiefly upon a regard to one's self. But 
the exercises of gratitude subsisted in Paradise, when 
there was no fault to deplore ; and will be perpetuated 
in heaven, when " God shall be all in all." 

The language of this sweet temper is, " I am un- 
speakably obliged : what return shall I make ?" And 
surely, it is no improper expression of an unfeigned 
thankfulness, to decorate our Creator's courts, and beau- 
tify " the place where his honor dwelleth." Of old, the 
habitation of his feet was glorious : let it not, now, be 
sordid or contemptible. It must grieve an ingenuous 
mind, and be a reproach to any people, to have their 
own houses wainscotted with cedar, and painted with 
vermilion ; while the temple of the Lord of hosts is des- 
titute of every decent ornament. 

Here I recollected and w T as charmed with Solomon?s 
fine address to the Almighty, at the dedication of his 
famous temple. With immense charge, and exquisite 
skill, he had erected the most rich and finished structure 
that the sun ever saw. Yet, upon a review of his work, 
and a reflection on the transcendent perfections of the 
Godhead, how he exalts the one and abases the other! 
The building was too glorious for the mightiest monarch 
to inhabit ; too sacred for unhallowed feet even to enter ; 
yet infinitely too mean for the Deity to reside in. It was, 
and the royal worshipper acknowledged it to be, a most 
marvellous vouchsafement in uncreated Excellency, to 
" put his name there." The whole passage breathes 
such a delicacy, and is animated with such a sublimity 
of sentiment, that I cannot persuade myself to pass on 
without repeating it. But will God indeed dwell on 



48 MEDITATION 8 



earth ? Behold ! the heaven, and heaven of heavens, can- 
not contain thee; how much less this house that I have 
builded I* Incomparable saying ! worthy the wisest of 
men. Who would not choose to possess such an elevated 
devotion, rather than to own all the glittering materials 
of that sumptuous edifice ? 

We are apt to be struck with admiration at the state- 
liness and grandeur of a masterly performance in archi- 
tecture ; and, perhaps, on a sight of the ancient sanc- 
tuary, should have made the superficial observation of 
the disciples, " What manner of stones, and what build- 
ings are here ?" But what a nobler turn of thought, and 
juster taste of things, does it discover, to join with 
IsraePs king in celebrating the condescension of the 
Divine Inhabitant ! that the High and Lofty One, who 
fills immensity with his glory, should, in a peculiar man- 
ner, fix his abode there ! should there manifest an ex- 
traordinary degree of his benedictive presence ; permit 
sinful mortals to approach his majesty; and promise "to 

* 1 Kings, viii.27. — But will: a fine abrupt beginning, most signi- 
ficantly describing the amazement and rapture of the royal prophet's 
mind! — God: he uses no epithet, where writers of inferior discern- 
ment would have been fond to multiply them : but speaks of the 
Deity, as an incomprehensible Being, whose perfections and glories 
are exalted above all praise. — Dwell: to bestow on sinful creatures 
a propitious look ; to favor them with a transient visit of kindness ; 
even this were an unutterable obligation. Will he then vouchsafe 
to fix his abode among them, and take up his stated residence with 
them] — Indeed: a word, in this connection, peculiarly emphatical, 
expressive of a condescension, wonderful and extraordinary, almost 
beyond all credibility. — Behold: intimating the continued, or rather 
the increasing surprise of the speaker, and awakening the attention 
of the hearer. — Behold/ the heaven: the spacious concave of the 
firmament ; that wide extended azure circumference, in which worlds 
unnumbered perform their revolutions, is too scanty an apartment 
for the Godhead. — Nay, the heaven of heavens : those vastly higher 
tracts, which lie far beyond the limits of human survey ; te which 
our very thoughts can hardly soar ; even these (unbounded as they 
are) cannot afford an adequate habitation for Jehovah ; even these 
dwindle into a point, when compared with the infinitude of his 
essence ; even these " are as nothing before Him." How much less 
proportionate is this poor diminutive speck (which I have been 
erecting and embellishing) to so august a Presence, so immense a 
Majesty? 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 



49 



make them joyful in his house of prayer !" This should 
more sensibly affect our hearts, than the most curious 
arrangement of stones can delight our eyes. 

Nay, the everlasting God does not disdain to dwell in 
our souls by the Holy Spirit ; and to make even our 
bodies his temple. Tell me, ye that frame critical judg- 
ments, and balance nicely the distinction of things : "is 
this most astonishing, or most rejoicing ?" He humbleth 
himself, the Scripture assures us, even to behold the 
things that are in heaven.* 'Tis a most condescending 
favor, if he pleases to take the least approving notice 
of angels and archangels, when they bow down in 
homage from their celestial thrones. Will he then gra- 
ciously regard, will he be united, most intimately united, 
to poor, polluted, breathing dust ? Unparalleled honor ! 
Invaluable privilege ! Be this my portion, and I shall 
not covet crowns, nor envy conquerors. 

But let me remember, what a sanctity of disposition 
and uprightness of conversation, so exalted a relation 
demands: remember this, " and rejoice with trembling." 
Durst I commit any iniquity, w^hile I tread these hal- 
lowed courts? Could the Jewish High Priest allow him- 
self in any known transgression, while he made that 
solemn yearly entrancef into the Holy of Holies, and 
stood before the immediate presence of Jehovah 6 } No, 
truly. In such circumstances, a thinking person must 
shudder at the most remote solicitation to any wilful 
offence. I should now be shocked at the least indecency 
of behavior, and am apprehensive of every appearance 
of evil. And why do we not carry this holy jealousy into 
all our ordinary life ? Why do we not, in every place, 
reverence ourselves ;J as persons dedicated to the Divi- 
nity, as living temples of the Godhead ? For, if we are 

* PsaL cxiii. 6. f Heb. ix. 7. 

t — navrodv Se fxaXiar aioocweo acavrov, was the favorite maxim 

of Pythagoras, and supposed to be one of the best moral precepts 
ever given to the Heathen world. With what superior force and 
very singular advantage, does this argument take place in the Chris- 
tian scheme ; were we taught to regard ourselves, not merely as in- 



50 MEDITATIONS 



real, and not mere nominal Christians, the God of glory, 
according to his own promise,* dwells in us, and walks 
in us. O ! that this one doctrine of our religion might 
operate, with an abiding delicacy, upon/our consciences ! 
It would be instead of a thousand laws, to regulate our 
conduct ; instead of a thousand motives, to quicken us 
in holiness. Under the influence of such a conviction, 
we should study to maintain a purity of intention, a dig- 
nity of action ; and to walk worthy of that transcend- 
antly majestic Being, who admits us to a fellowship with 
himself; and with his Son Jesus Christo 

The next thing which engaged my attention, was; the 
lettered floor. The pavement, somewhat like EzekieVs 
roll, w T as written over from one end to the other. I soon 
perceived the comparison to hold good in another re- 
spect ; and the inscriptions to be matter of mourning, 
lamentation and woe.\ They seemed to court my obser- 
vation ; silently inviting me to read them. And what 
would these dumb monitors inform me of? " That, be- 
neath their little circumferences, w T ere deposited such 
and such pieces of clay, which once lived, and moved, 
and talked : that they had received a charge to preserve 
their names, and were the remaining trustees of their 
memory." 

Ah ! said I, is such my situation ? The adorable 
Creator around me, and the bones of my fellow-crea- 
tures under me! Surely, then, I have great reason to 
cry out, with the revering patriarch, How dreadful is this . 
place !\ Seriousness and devotion become this house 
forever. May I never enter it lightly or irreverently ; 
but with a profound awe, and godly fear. 

0! that that they were wise !\\ said the inspired pen- 
man. It was his last wish for his dear people. He 
breathed it out, and gave up the ghost. But what is 

tellectual beings, who have reason for our monitor ; but as consecrated 
creatures, who have a God of the most consummate perfection, ever 
with us, ever in us. 

• 2 Cor. vi. 16. f Ezek. ii. 10. 

* Gen. xxviii. 17. II Deut. xxxiL 29. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 51 

wisdom? It consists not in refined speculations, acca* 
rate researches into nature, or an univeisal acquaintance 
with history. The divine lawgiver settles this important 
point in his next aspiration : / that they understood 
this I that they had right apprehensions of their spiritual 
interests and eternal concerns ! that they had eyes to 
discern and inclinations to pursue, the things which 
belong to their peace ! But how shall they attain this 
valuable knowledge ? I send them not 3 adds the illus- 
trious teacher, to turn over all the volumes of literature : 
they may acquire, and much more expeditiously, this 
science of life, by considering their latter end. This 
spark of heaven is often lost under the glitter of pompous 
erudition ; but shines clearly in the gloomy mansions of 
the tomb : drowned is this gentle whisper amidst the 
noise of secular affairs ; but speaks distinctly in the re- 
tirements of serious contemplation. Behold ! how pro- 
videntially I am brought to the school* of wisdom ! The 
grave is the most faithful master ;f and these instances 
of mortality the most instructive lessons. Come, then, 
calm attention, and compose my thoughts ; come, thou 
celestial Spirit, and enlighten my mind ; thai I may so 
peruse these awful pages, as to become " wise unto sal- 
vation." 

Examining the records of mortality, I found the me- 
morials of a promiscuous multitude.^ They were hud- 
dled, at least they rested together, without any regard to 
rank or seniority. None were ambitious of the uppei- 
most rooms or chief seats, in this house of mourning. 
None entertained fond and eager expectations of being 
honorably greeted in their darksome cells. The man of 

* The man how wise, who, sick of gaudy scenes, 
Is led by choice to take his favorite walk 
Beneath death's gloomy, silent, cypress shades, 
Unpierced by vanity's fantastic ray ! 
To read his monuments, to weigh his dust, 
Visit his vaults, and dwell among the tombs ! 

Night Thoughts. 

j- Wait the great teacher death. — Pope. 

$ Mista senum ac juvenum densantur funera. — Horace. 



52 MEDITATIONS 



years and experience, reputed as an oracle in his gene- 
ration, was content to lie down at the feet of a babe. 
In this house appointed for all living, the servant was 
equally accommodated, and lodged in the same story 
with his master. The poor indigent lay as softly, and 
slept as soundly, as the most opulent possessor. All the dis- 
tinction that subsisted was a grassy hillock, bound with 
osiers ; or a sepulchral stone, ornamented with imagery. 

Why then, said my working thoughts, ! why should 
we raise such a mighty stir about superiority and prece- 
dence ; when the next remove will reduce us all to a 
state of equal meanness ? Why should w r e exalt our-, 
selves, or debase others ; since we must all, one day, be 
upon a common level, and blended together in the same 
undistinguished dust ? ! that this consideration might 
humble my own and others' pride, and sink our imagina- 
tions as low as our habitations will shortly be ! 

Among these confused relics of humanity, there are, 
without doubt, persons of contrary interests and contra- 
dicting sentiments. But death, like some able Daysman, 
has laid his hand on the contending parties, and brought 
all their differences to an amicable conclusion.* Here 
enemies, sworn enemies, dwell together in unity. They 
drop every imbittered thought, and forget that they once 
were foes. Perhaps their crumbling bones mix, as they 
moulder : and those who, while they lived, stood aloof 
in irreconcileable variance, here fall into mutual em- 
braces, and even incorporate with each other in the 
grave. 0! that we might learn from these friendly 
ashes, not to perpetuate the memory of injuries, not to 
foment the fever of resentment, nor cherish the turbu- 
lence of passion ; that there may be as little animosity 
and disagreement in the land of the living, as there is 
in the congregation of the dead ! But I suspend for a 
while such general observations, and address myself to 
a more particular inquiry. 



Hi motus animorum, atque hxc certamina tarda, 
Pulveris exigui jactu compressa quie^cunt. — Virgil. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 53 

Yonder white stone, emblem of the innocence it covers, 
informs the beholder of one who breathed out its tender 
soul almost in the instant of receiving it. There, the 
peaceful infant, without so much as knowing what labor 
and vexation mean, "lies still and is quiet; it sleeps and 
is at rest."* Staying only to wash away its native im- 
purity in the laver of regeneration, it bid a speedy adieu 
to time and terrestrial things. What did the little hasty 
sojourner find so forbidding and disgusting in our upper 
world, to occasion its precipitate exit? 9 Tis written, 
indeed, of its suffering Saviour, that when he had tasted 
the vinegar mingled with gall, he would not drink, f 
And did our new-come stranger begin to sip the cup of 
life ; but, perceiving the bitterness, turn away its head, 
and refuse the draught? Was this the cause, why the 
w r ary babe only opened its eyes ; just looked on the light ; 
and then withdrew into the more inviting regions of un- 
disturbed repose ? 

Happy voyager ! no sooner launched, than arrived at 
the haven ! J But more eminently happy they, who have 
passed the w r aves, and weathered all the storms of a 
troublesome and dangerous world ! who, "through many 
tribulations, have entered into the kingdom of heaven ;" 
and thereby brought honor to their divine Convoy, ad- 
ministered comfort to the companions of their toil, and 
left an instructive example to succeeding pilgrims. 

Highly favored probationer ! accepted, without being 
exercised ! It was thy peculiar privilege, not to feel the 
slightest of those evils which oppress thy surviving 
kindred ; which frequently fetch groans from the most 
manly fortitude or most elevated faith. The arrows of 
calamity, barbed with anguish, are often fixed deep in 
our choicest comforts. The fier} darts of temptation, 
shot from the hand of hell, are always flying in showers 

* Job, iii. 13. f Matt, xxvii. 34 

\ Happy the babe, who, privileged by fate 

To shorter labor and a lighter weight, 

Received but yesterday the gift of breath, 

Order' d to-morrow to return to Death. 

Pmoa's Sol 

5* 



54 MEDITATIONS 



around our integrity. To thee, sweet babe, both these 
distresses and dangers were alike unknown. 

Consider this, ye mourning parents , and dry up your 
tears. Why should you lament that your little ones are 
crowned with victory, before the sword is drawn or the 
conflict begun ? Perhaps the Supreme Disposer of events 
foresaw some inevitable snare of temptation forming, or 
some dreadful storm of adversity impending. And why 
should you be so dissatisfied with that kind precaution., 
which housed your pleasant plant, and removed into 
shelter a tender flower, before the thunders roared ; be- 
fore the lightnings flew ; before the tempest poured its 
rage ? remember ! they are not lost, but taken away 
from the evil to come* 

At the same time, let survivors, doomed to bear the 
heat and burden of the day, for their encouragement 
reflect, that it is more honorable to have entered the 
lists, and to have fought the good fight, before they come 
off conquerors. They w T ho have borne the cross, and 
submitted to afflictive providences, with a cheerful resig- 
nation ; have girded up the loins of their mind, and per- 
formed their Master's will, with an honest and persever- 
ing fidelity ; these, having glorified their Redeemer on 
earth, will, probably, be as stars of the first magnitude 
in heaven. They will shine with brighter beams, be 
replenished with stronger joys, in their Lord's everlast- 
ing kingdom. 

Here lies the grief of a fond mother, and the blasted 
expectation of an indulgent father., The youth grew up, 
like a well- watered plant ; he shot deep, rose high, and 
bid fair for manhood. But just as the cedar began to 
tower, and promised, ere long, to be the pride of the 
wood, and prince among the neighboring trees — behold ! 
the axe is laid unto the root ; the fatal blow struck; and 
all its branching honors tumbled to the dust. And did 
he fall alone ? No, the hopes of his father that begat 
him, and the pleasing prospects of her that bare him 5 
fell, and were crushed together with him. 
■• Isa. lvii. 1. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 55 

Doubtless, it would have pierced one's heart, to have 
beheld the tender parents following the breathless youth 
to his long home. Perhaps, drowned in tears, and all 
overwhelmed with sorrows, they stood like weeping 
statues, on this very spot. Methinks, I see the deeply 
distressed mourners attending the sad solemnity. How 
they wring their hands, and pour floods from their eyes ! 
Is it fancy ? or do I really hear the compassionate mother , 
in an agony of affliction, taking her final leave of the 
darling of her soul ? Dumb she remained, while the 
awful obsequies were performing ; dumb w T ith grief, and 
leaning upon the partner of her woes. But now the 
inward anguish struggles for vent ; it grows too big to 
be repressed. She advances to the brink of the grave. 
All her soul is in a*~ ^yes. She fastens one more look 
upon the dear doleful object, before the pit shuts its 
mouth upon him. And as she looks, she cries, in broken 
accents, interrupted by many a rising sob, she cries — 
" Farewell, my son ! my son ! my only beloved ! would 
to God I had died for thee ! Farewell, my child ; and 
farewell all my earthly happiness ! I shall never more 
see good, in the land of the living. Attempt not to com- 
fort me. I will go mourning all my days, till my gray 
hairs come down, with sorrow, to the grave !" 

From this affecting representation, let parents be con- 
vinced, how highly it concerns them to cultivate the 
morals and secure the immortal interests of their chil- 
dren. If you really love the offspring of your own 
bodies ; if your bowels yearn over those amiable pledges 
of conjugal endearment ; spare no pains, give all dili- 
gence, I entreat you, to " bring them up in the nurture 
and admonition of the Lord :" then, may you have joy 
in their life, or consolation in their death. If their span 
is prolonged, their unblamable and useful conduct will 
be the staff of your age, and a balm for declining nature. 
Or, if the number of their years be cut off in the miaul , 
you may commit their remains to the dust with much the 
same comfortable expectations as you send the survivors 
to places of genteel education. You may commit them 



56 MEDITATIONS, 



to the dust with cheering hopes of receiving them again 
to your arms, inexpressibly improved in every noble and 
endearing accomplishment. 

5 Tis certainly a severe trial, and much more afflictive 
than I am able to imagine, to resign a lovely blooming 
creature, sprung from your own loins, to the gloomy re- 
cesses of corruption. Thus to resign him, after having 
been long dandled upon your knees, united to your affec- 
tions by a thousand ties of tenderness, and now become 
both the delight of your eyes and the support of your 
family ! to have such a one torn from your bosom, and 
thrown into darkness; doubtless, it must be like a dagger 
in your hearts. But, ! how much more cutting to you, 
and confounding to the child, to have the soul separated 
from God ; and, for shameful ignorance or early impiety, 
transmitted to places of eternal torment ! How would 
it aggravate your distress, and add a distracting emphasis 
to all your sighs, if you should follow the pale corpse 
with these bitter reflections ! " This dear creature, 
though long ago capable of knowing good from evil, is 
gone out of the world before it had learned the great 
design of coming into it. A short-lived momentary ex- 
istence it received from me ; but no good instructions, 
no holy admonitions, nothing to further its well-being in 
that everlasting state upon w T hich it is now entered. The 
poor body is consigned to the coffin, and carried out to 
consume away in the cold and silent grave. And w T hat 
reason have I to suppose that the precious soul is in a 
better condition ? May I not justly fear, that, sentenced 
by the righteous Judge, it is going, or gone away, into 
the pains of endless punishment ? Perhaps, while I am 
bewailing its untimely departure, it may be cursing, in 
outer darkness, that ever to be deplored, that most cala- 
mitous day, when it was born of such a careless ungc jly 
parent as I* have been." 

Nothing, I think, but the gnawings of that worm 
which never dies, can equal the anguish of these self- 
condemning thoughts. The tortures of a rack must be 
an easy suffering, compared with the stings and horrors 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 57 

of such a remorse. How earnestly do I wish, that as 
many as were entrusted with the management of chil- 
dren, would take timely care to prevent those scourges 
of conscience ; by endeavoring to conduct their minds 
into an early knowledge of Christ, and a cordial love of 
his truth ! 

On this hand is lodged one, whose sepulchral stone 
tells a most pitiable tale indeed ! Well may the little 
images^ reclined over the sleeping ashes, hang down 
their heads with that pensive air ! None can consider 
so mournful a story, without feeling some touches of 
sympathizing concern. His age twenty-eight ; his death 
sudden ; himself cut down in the prime of life, amidst 
all the vivacity and vigor of manhood ; while " his 
breasts were full of milk, and his bones moistened with 
marrow." Probably he entertained no apprehensions 
of the evil hour. And indeed who could have suspected 
that so bright a sun should go down at noon ? ^ To human 
appearance, his hill stood strong. Length of days seemed 
written in his sanguine countenance. He solaced himself 
with the prospect of a long, long series of earthly satis- 
factions. When, lo ! an unexpected stroke descends ! 
descends from that mighty arm, which " overturneth the 
mountains by their roots ; and crushes the imaginary 
hero, before the moth"* as quickly, and more easily, 
than our fingers press such a feeble fluttering insect to 
death. 

* Job, iv. 19. w$ ^D 1 ?. — Adinstar, ad modum, tinese. I retain this 
interpretation, both as it is most suitable to my purpose, and as it is 
patronised by some eminent commentators ; especially the celebrated 
Schultens. Though I cannot but give the preference to the opinion 
of a judicious friend, who would render the passage more literally 
before the face of a moth .• making it to represent a creature so ex- 
ceedingly frail, that even a moth, flying against it, may dash it to 
pieces ; which, besides its closer correspondence with the exact im- 
port of the Hebrew, presents us with a much finer image of the most 
extreme imbecility. For it certainly implies a far greater degree of 
weakness, to be crushed by the feeble flutter of the feeblest creature, 
than only to be crushed as easily as that creature by the hand of man. 
The French version is very expressive and beautiful — a la rencontre 
(Fun vermisseau. 



58 MEDITATIONS 



Perhaps, the nuptial joys were all he thought on. 
Were such things the breathings of his enamored soul ! 
u Yet a very little while and I shall possess the utmost 
of my wishes. I shall call my charmer mine ; and, in 
Aer, enjoy whatever my heart can crave." In the midst 
of such enchanting views, had some faithful friend but 
softly reminded him of an opening grave, and the end 
of all things ; how unseasonable would he have reckoned 
the admonition ! Yet, though all warm with life, and 
rich in visionary bliss, he was even then tottering upon 
the brink of both. Dreadful vicissitude ! to have the 
bridal festivity turned into the funeral solemnity !* De- 
plorable misfortune ! to be shipwrecked in the very 
haven ! and to perish even in sight of happiness ! What 
a memorable proof is here of the frailty of man, in his 
best estate! Look, look on this monument, ye gay 
and careless ! Attend to this date ; and boast no more 
of to-morrow ! 

Who can tell, but the bridemaids, girded with glad- 
ness, had prepared the marriage bed ! had decked it 
with the richest covers, and dressed it in pillows of 
down ? When — oh ! trust not in youth, or strength, or 
in any thing mortal ; for there is nothing certain, nothing 
to be depended on, beneath the unchangeable God — 
Death, relentless Death, is making him another kind of 
bed in the dust of the earth. Unto this he must be con- 
veyed, not with a splendid procession of joyous attend- 
ants ; but stretched in the gloomy hearse^ and followed 
by a train of mourners. On this he must take up a 
lonely lodging, nor ever be released, " till the heavens 
are no more. 5 ' In vain does the consenting/tfir one put 

* A distress of this kind is painted in very affecting colors by 
Pliny, in an episle to Marcellinus : O triste plane acerbumque funus / 
O morte ipsa mortis tempus indignius ! jam destinata erat egregio 
juveni ,• jam electus nuptiarum dies ; jam nos advocati. Quod gau- 
dium quo mserore mutatum est ! Non possum exprimere verbis, quan- 
tum animo vulnus acceperim, quum audivi Fundanum ipsum (tit multa 
luduosa dolor invenit) praecipientem, quod in vestes, margaritas, gem- 
masy fuerat erogaturus, hoc in thura, et unguenta, et odores impendere- 
tur. — Plistt, Lib. v. Epist. 26. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 59 

on her ornaments, and expect her spouse. Did she not, 
like Sisera's mother, look out of the lattice ; chide the 
delays of her beloved ; and wonder " why his chariot 
was so long in coming?" little thinking, that the intended 
bridegroom had forever done with transitory things ! that 
now everlasting cares employ his mind, without one 
single remembrance of his lovely Lucinda ! Go, disap- 
pointed virgin ! go, mourn the uncertainty of all created 
bliss ! Teach thy soul to aspire after a sure and immu- 
table felicity ! For the once gay and gallant Fidelia 
sleeps in other embraces ; even in the icy arms of Death ! 
forgetful, eternally forgetful, of the world, and thee ! 

Hitherto, one is tempted to exclaim against the king 
of terrors, and call him capriciously cruel. He seems, 
by beginning at the wrong end of the register, to have 
inverted the laws of nature. Passing over the couch of 
decrepid age, he has nipped infancy in its bud ; blasted 
youth in its bloom ; and torn up manhood in its full ma- 
turity. Terrible, indeed, are these providences, yet not 
unsearchable the counsels : 

For us they sicken, and for us they die.* 

Such strokes must not only grieve the relatives, but 
surprise the whole neighborhood. They sound a pow- 
erful alarm to heedless dreaming mortals, and are in- 
tended as a remedy for our carnal security. Such pass- 
ing-bells inculcate loudly our Lord's admonition: "Take 
ye heed, watch, and pray ; for ye know not when the 
time is. 5 ' We nod, like intoxicated creatures, upon the 
very verge of a tremendous precipice. These astonish- 
ing dispensations are the kind messengers of Heaven, to 
rouse us from our supineness, and quicken us into timely 
circumspection. I need not, surely accommodate them 
with language, nor act as their interpreter. Let every 
one's conscience be awake, and this will appear their 
awful meaning : "0! ye sons of men, in the midst of 
life you are in death. No st-die^ no circumstances, can 
ascertain your preservation a single moment. So strong 

* Night Thoughts. 



60 MEDITATIONS 

is the tyrant's arm, that nothing can resist its force ; so 
true his aim, that nothing can elude the blow. Sudden 
as lightning, sometimes, is his arrow launched ; and 
wounds, and kills, in the twinkling of an eye. Never 
promise yourselves safety in any expedient but constant 
preparation. The fatal shafts fly so promiscuously, that 
none can guess the next victim. Therefore, be ye al- 
ways ready : for in such an hour as ye think not, the final 
summons cometh." 

Be ye always ready : for in such an hour as ye think 
not — Important admonition ! Methinks, it reverberates 
from sepulchre to sepulchre; and addresses me with line 
upon line, precept upon precept. The reiterated warn- 
ing, I acknowledge, is too needful ; may co-operat- 
ing grace render it effectual ! The momentous truth, 
though worthy to be engraved on the tables of a most 
tenacious memory, is but slightly sketched on the tran- 
sient flow of passion. We see our neighbors fall : we 
turn pale at the shock ; and feel, perhaps, a trembling 
dread. No sooner are they removed from our sight ; 
but, driven in the whirl of business, or lulled in the 
languors of pleasure, we forget the providence, and 
neglect its errand. The impression made on our unstable 
minds is like the trace of an arrow through the pene- 
trated air, or the path of a keel in the furrowed wave. 
Strange stupidity ! To cure it, another monitor bespeaks 
me from a neighboring stone. It contains the narrative 
of an unhappy mortal, snatched from his friends, and 
hurried to the awful bar, without leisure, either to take 
a last farewell of the one, or to put up so much as a 
single prayer preparatory for the other: killed, according 
to the usual expression, by a sudden stroke of casualty. 

Was it then a random stroke ? Doubtless, the blow 
came from an aiming, though invisible hand. God pre- 
sideth over the armies of heaven; God ruleth among the 
inhabitants of the earth ; and God conducteth what men 
call Chance. Nothing, nothing comes to pass through a 
blind and undiscerning fatality. If accidents happen, 
they happen according to the exact foreknowledge, and 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 61 



conformably to the determinate counsels of Eternal Wis- 
dom. The Lord, with whom are the issues of death, 
signs the warranty and gives the high commission. The 
seemingly fortuitous disaster is only the agent or the in- 
strument appointed to execute the supreme decree. 
When the king of Israel was mortally wounded, it seemed 
to be a casual shot. A certain man drew a bow at a ven- 
ture * — Jit a venture, as he thought. But his hand was 
strengthened by an omnipotent aid, and the shaft levelled 
by an unerring eye. So that, what we term casualty, is 
really providence ; accomplishing deliberate designs, but 
concealing its own interposition. How comforting this 
reflection ! admirably adapted to sooth the throbbing 
anguish of the mourners, and compose their spirits into 
a quiet submission ! excellently suited to dissipate the 
fears of godly survivors, and create a calm intrepidity 
even amidst innumerable perils ! 

How thin is the partition between this world and an- 
other ! How short the transition from time to eternity ! 
The partition, nothing more than the breath in our 
nostrils ; and the transition may be made in the twink- 
ling of an eye. Poor Chremylus, I remember, arose 
from the diversion of a card table, and dropped into the 
dwellings of darkness. One night, Corinna was all 
gaiety in her spirits, all finery in her apparel, at a mag- 
nificent ball. The next night, she lay pale and stiff, an 
extended corpse, and ready to be mingled with the 
mouldering dead. Young Atticus lived to see his ample 
and commodious seat completed : but not to spend one 
joyous hour under the stately roof. The sashes were 
hung to admit the day ; but the master's eyes are closed 
in endless night. The apartments were furnished to 
invite society or administer repose ; but their lord rests 
in the lower parts of the earth, in the solitary, silent 
chambers of the tomb. The gardens were planned, and 
a thousand elegant decorations designed ; but alas ! their 
intended possessor is gone down to "the place of skulls ;" 
is gone down to the valley of the shadow of death. 
* 1 Kings, xxii. 34. 



62 MEDITATION 



While I am recollecting, many I question not, are 
experiencing the same tragical vicissitude. The eyes 
of that sublime Being, who sits upon the circle of the 
earth, and views all its inhabitants with one comprehen- 
sive glance, even now beholds many tents in affliction — 
such affliction as overwhelmed the Egyptians in that fatal 
night, when the destroying angeLsheathed his arrows in 
all the pride of their strength : — some, sinking to the 
floor from their easy chair, and deaf even amidst the 
piercing shrieks, of their distracted relations : — some 
giving up the ghost, as they sit retired, or lie reclined 
under the shady arbor, to taste the sweets of the flow r ery 
scene : — some, as they sail, associated with a party of 
pleasure, along the dancing stream, and through the 
laughing meads. Nor is the grim intruder mollified, 
though wine and music flow around : — some intercepted, 
as they are returning home ; and some interrupted, as 
they enter upon an important negotiation : — some arrested 
with the gain of injustice in their hands ; and some sur- 
prised, in the very act of lewdness, or the attempt of 
cruelty. 

Legions, legions of disasters, such as no prudence can 
foresee, and no care prevent, lie in wait to accomplish 
our doom. A starting horse may throw his rider ; may 
•at once dash his body against the stones, and fling his 
soul into the invisible world. A stack of chimneys may 
tumble into the street, and crush the unwary passenger 
under the ruins. Even a single tile, dropping from the 
roof, may be as fatal as the fall of the whole structure. 
So frail, so very attenuated is the thread of life, that it 
not only bursts before the storm, but breaks even at a 
breeze. The most common occurrences, those from 
which we suspect not the least harm, may prove the 
weapons of our destruction. A grape stone, a despicable 
fly, may be more mortal than Goliath, with all his formid- 
able armor. Nay, if God give command, our very com- 
forts become killing. The air we breathe is our bane ; 
and the food we eat the vehicle of death. That last 
enemy has unnumbered avenues for his approach ; yea, 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 63 

lies intrenched in our very bosom, and holds his fortress 
in the seat of our life. The crimson fluid, which distri- 
butes health, is impregnated with the seeds of death. 
Heat may inflame it, or toil oppress it ; and make it 
destroy the parts it was designed to cherish. Some 
unseen impediment may obstruct its passage, or some 
unknown violence may divert its course ; in either of 
which cases, it acts the part of a poisonous draught or a 
deadly stab. 

Ah ! in what perils is vain life engaged ! 
What slight neglects, what trivial faults destroy 
The hardest frame ! Of indolence, of toil 
We die ; of want, of superfluity. 
The all -surrounding heaven, the vital air, 
Is big with death. 

Since then we are so liable to be dispossessed of this 
earthly tabernacle, let us look upon ourselves only as 
tenants at will ; and hold ourselves in perpetual readi- 
ness, to depart at a moment's warning. Without such 
an habitual readiness, we are like wretches that sleep on 
the top of a mast while a horrid gulf yawns, or furious 
waves rage below. And where can be the peace, what 
the satisfaction of such a state ? Whereas, a prepared 
condition will inspire a cheerfulness of temper, not to 
be dismayed by any alarming accident ; and create a 
firmness of mind, not to be overthrown by the most 
threatening dangers. When the city is fortified with 
walls, furnished with provision, guarded by able and 
resolute troops ; what have the inhabitants to fear ? what 
may they not enjoy? So, just so, or rather by a much 
surer band, are connected the real taste of life, and the 
constant thought of death. 

I said, Our very comforts may become lulling. — And 
see the truth inscribed by the hand, sealed with the 
signet of fate. The- marble, which graces yonder pillar, 
informs me, that near it are deposited the remains of 
Sophronia y the much lamented Sophronia, who died in 
childbed. How often does this calamity happen ! The 
branch shoots ; but the stem withers. The babe springs 



64 MEDITATIONS 



to light ; but she that bare him breathes her last. She 
gives life, but gives it (0 pitiable consideration!) at the 
expense of her own ; and becomes, at once, a mother 
and a corpse. Or else, perhaps, she expires in severe 
pangs, and is herself a tomb for her infant ; while the 
melancholy complaint of a monarch's woe is the epitaph 
for them both : The children are come to the birth, and 
there is not strength to bring forth * Less to be lamented, 
in my opinion, this misfortune, than the other. Better 
for the tender stranger to be stopped in the porch ; than 
to enter, only to converse with affliction. Better, to 
find a grave in the womb ; than to be exposed on a 
hazardous world, without the guardian of its infantine 
years, without the faithful guide of its youth. 

This monument is distinguished by its finer materials 
and more delicate appendages. It seems to have taken 
its model from an affluent hand, directed by a generous 
heart ; which thought it could never do enough for the 
deceased. It seems, also, to exhibit an emblematical 
picture of Sophronia's person and accomplishments. Is 
her beauty, or, what is more than beauty, her white- 
robed innocence, represented by the snowy color? the 
surface, smoothly polished, like her amiable temper and 
engaging manners? the whole adorned, in a well-judged 
medium between extravagant pomp and sordid negli- 
gence, like her undissembled goodness, remote from the 
least ostentation^ yet in all points exemplary ? But, ah ! 
how vain were all these endearing charms ! How vain 
the lustre of thy sprightly eye ! How vain the bloom 
of thy bridal youth ! How vain the honors of thy supe- 
rior birth ! How unable to secure the lovely possessor 
from the savage violence of death ! — How ineffectual the 
universal esteem of thy acquaintance, the fondness of 
thy transported husband, or even the spotless integrity 
of thy character, to prolong thy span, or procure thee a 
short reprieve ! — The concurrence of all these cir- 
cumstances reminds me of those beautiful and tender 
lines : 

* Isa. xxxvii. 3. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. (35 

How loved, how valued once, avails thee not; 

To whom related, or by whom begot : 

A heap of dust alone remains of thee ; 

'Tis all thou art ! — and all the proud shall be !* 

Pope's Miscell. 

Yet, though unable to divert the stroke, Christianity 
is sovereign to pluck out the sting of death. Is not this 
the silent language of those lamps, which burn, and of 
that heart which flames ; of those palms, which flourish, 

* These verses are inscribed on a small but elegant monument, 
lately erected in the great church at Northampton, which, in the 
hierogliphical decorations, corresponds with the description introduced 
above : in this circumstance particularly, that it is dedicated to the 
memory of an amiable woman, Mrs. Axne Stonhouse, the excellent 
wife of my worthy friend, Dr. Stoxhouse, who has seen all the 
powers of that healing art, to which I and so many others have been 
greatly indebted, failing in their attempts to preserve a life dearer to 
him than his own. 

Nee prosunt Domino, quae prosunt omnibus ortes. 

No longer his all-healing art avails ; 
But every remedy its master fails. 

In the midst of this tender distress, he has sought some kind of 
i jnsolation, even from the sepulchral marble, by teaching it to speak, 
at once, his esteem for her memory, and his veneration for that reli- 
gion which she so eminently adorned. Nor could this be more sig- 
nificantly done, than by summing up her character in that concise 
but comprehensive sentence, — A sincere Christian : concise enough 
to be the motto for a mourning ring ; yet as comprehensive as the 
most enlarged sphere of personal, social, and religious worth. For, 
whatsoever things are pure; whatsoever things are lovely; whatso- 
ever things are of good report; are they not all included in that grand 
and noble aggregate, a sincere Christian ? 

The first lines, considered in such a connection, are wonderfully 
plaintive and pathetic : 

How loved, how valued once, avails thee not ; 
To whom related, or by whom begot. 

They sound, at least in my ears, like the voice of sorrow, mingled 
with admiration. The speaker seems to have been lost, for a while, 
in melancholy contemplation ; suddenly breaks out into this abrupt 
encomium ; then melts into tears, and can proceed no farther. Yet, 
in this case, how eloquent is silence ! While it hints the universal 
esteem which attended, and the superiority of birth which distin- 
guished, the deceased wife ,• it expresses beyond all the pomp of 
words, the yearning affection, and heart-felt affliction, of the surviv- 

6* 



66 MEDITATIONS 



and of that crown, which glitters, in the well-imitated 
and gilded marble ? Do they not, to the discerning eye, 
describe the vigilance of her faith ; the fervency of her 
devotion ; her victory over the world ; and the celestial 
diadem, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give 
her at that day ?* 

ing husband. Amidst the group of monumental marbles which are 
lavish of their panegyric, this, I think, resembles the incomparable 
address of the painter, who having placed round a beautiful expiring 
virgin, her friends in all the agonies of grief, represented the un- 
equalled anguish of the father with far greater liveliness and strength, 
or rather with an inexpressible emphasis, by drawing a veil over 
his face. 

If the last lines are a wide departure from the beaten track of our 
modern epitaphs, and the very reverse of their high-flown compli- 
ments, 

A heap of dust alone remains of thee ! 
'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be ! 

they are not without a precedent, and one of the most consummate 
kind; since they breathe the very spirit of that sacred elegy, in 
which all the heart of the hero and the friend seems to be dissolved : 
How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished ! — 2 Sam. 
i. 27. They remind the reader of that awful lesson, which was ori- 
ginally dictated by the Supreme Wisdom : Dust thou art, and unto dust 
thou shall return. — Gen. iii. 19. They inculcate, with all the force 
of the most convincing evidence, that solemn admonition, delivered 
by the prophet : Cease ye from man*, whose breath is in his nostrils ; 
for wherein is he to be accounted of? — Is a. ii. 22. 

That no reader, however inattentive, might mistake the sense and 
design of this part of the fourth line, 
# 

'Tis all thou art f 

it is guarded above and beneath. Above, is an expanded book, that 
seems to be waved, with an air of triumph, over the emblem of 
death: which we cannot but suppose to be the volume of inspira- 
tion, as it exhibits a sort of abridgement of its whole contents, in 
those animated words : Be ye not slothful, but followers of them who 
through faith and patience inherit the promises. — Heb. vi. 12. Beneath, 
that every part might be pregnant with instruction, are those striking 
reflections, worthy the consideration of the highest proficient in know- 
ledge and piety, yet obvious to the understanding of the most un- 
taught reader : Life, how short ! eternity, how long ! May my soul 
learn the forcible purport of this short lesson, in her contracted span 
of time ! and all eternity will not be too long to rejoice in having 
learned it. 

* 2 Tim. iv. 8. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 67 

How happy the husband, in such a sharer of his bed, 
and partner of his fortunes! Their inclinations were 
nicely-tuned unison, and all their conversation was har- 
mony. Ho,w silken the yoke to such a pair, and what 
blessings were twisted with such bands! every joy was 
heightened, and every care alleviated. Nothing seemed 
wanting to ' consummate their bliss, but a hopeful pro- 
geny rising around them ; that they might see them- 
selves multiplied in their little ones ; see their mingled 
graces transfused into their offspring ; and feel the glow 
of their affection augmented, by being reflected from their 
children. " Grant us this gift," said their united prayers, 
" and our satisfactions are crowned : we request no 
more." 

Alas ! how blind are mortals to future events ! How 
unable to discern what is really good !* Give me chil- 
dren, said Rachael, or else I die ;f an ardour of impa- 
tience altogether unbecoming, and as mistaken as it was 
unbecoming. She dies, not by the disappointment, but 
by the accomplishment, of her desire. If children are to 
parents like a flowery chaplet, whose beauties blossom 
with ornament, and whose odours breathe delight ; death, 
or some fell misfortune, may find means to entwine 
themselves with the lovely wreath. Whenever our souls 
are poured out, with passionate importunity, after any 
inferior acquisition, it may be truly said, in the words 
of our Divine Master, Ye know not what ye ask. Does 
Providence withhold the thing: that we long for? It 
denies in mercy ; and only withholds the occasion of 
our misery, perhaps the instrument of our ruin. With 
a sickly appetite, we often loathe what is wdiolesome, 
and hanker after our bane. Where imagination dreams 
of unmingled sweets, there experience frequently finds the 
bitterness of woe. 



Nescia mens hominum fati, sortisque futurx / 
Turno tempus erit, magno cum optaverit emptum 
Litaclum Pallanta ; et cum spolia ista diemque 

OderiU Virgil. 

f Gen. xxx. 1 



68 MEDITATIONS 



Therefore, may we covet immoderately neither this 
nor that form of earthly felicity ; but refer the whole of 
our condition to the choice of unerring Wisdom. May 
we learn to renounce our own will, and be ready to 
make a sacrifice of our warmest wishes, whenever they 
run counter to the good pleasure of God. For, indeed, 
as to obey his laws, is to be perfectly free ; so, to resign 
ourselves to his disposal, is to establish our own happi- 
ness, and to be secure from fear of evil. 

Here, a small and plain stone is placed upon the 
ground ; purchased, one would imagine, from the little 
fund, and formed by the hand of frugality itself. No- 
thing costly : not one decoration added ; only a very 
short inscription ; and that so effaced, as to be scarcely 
intelligible. Was the depositary unfaithful to its trust ? 
or were the letters worn by the frequent resort of the 
surviving family to mourn over the grave of a most val- 
uable and beloved relative ? For I perceive, upon a 
closer inspection, that it covers the remains of a father ; 
a religious father , snatched from his growing offspring 
before they were settled in the world, or so much as 
their principles fixed by a thorough education. 

This, sure, is the most complicated distress that has 
hitherto come under our consideration. The solemnities 
of such a dying chamber, are some of the most melting 
and melancholy scenes imaginable. There lies the affec- 
tionate husband ; the indulgent parent ; the faithful friend ; 
and the generous master. He lies in the last extremi- 
ties, and on the very point of dissolution. Art has done 
its all. The raging disease mocks the power of medi- 
cine. It hastens, with resistless impetuosity, to execute 
its dreadful errand ; to rend asunder the silver cord of 
life, and the more delicate tie of social attachment and 
conjugal affection. 

A servant or two, from a revering distance, cast many 
a wishful look, and condole their honoured master in 
the language of sighs. The condescending mildness of 
his commands was wont to produce an alacrity of obe- 
dience, and render their service a pleasure. The remem- 



AMONG THE TOMBS. gg 

brance of both imbitters their grief, and makes it trickle 
plentifully down their honest cheeks. His friends, who 
have so often shared his joys, and gladdened his mind 
with their enlivening converse, now are miserable com- 
forters. A sympathizing and mournful pity is all the 
relief they are able to contribute ; unless it be augmented 
by their silent prayers for the divine succour, and a word 
of consolation suggested from the Scriptures.* Those 
poor innocents, the children, crowd around the bed ; 
drowned in tears, and almost frantic with grief, they 
sob out their little souls, and passionately cry, " Will he 
leave us ? leave us in a helpless condition ! leave us to 
an injurious world !" 

These separate streams are all united in the distressed 
spouse, and overwhelm her breast with an impetuous 
tide of sorrows. In her, the lover weeps ; the wife 
mourns ; and all the mother yearns. To her the loss is 
beyond measure aggravated, by months and years of 
delightful society, and exalted friendship. Where, alas! 
can she meet with such unsuspected fidelity, or repose 
such unreserved confidence ? Where find so discreet a 
counsellor ! so improving an example ; and a guardian 
so sedulously attentive to the interests of herself and her 
children ! See ! how she hangs over the languishing 
bed ; most tenderly solicitous to prolong a life, impor- 
tant and desirable far beyond her own. Or, if that be 
impracticable, no less tenderly officious to soothe the last 
agonies of her dearer self Her hands, trembling under 
direful apprehensions, wipe the cold dews from the livid 
cheeks ; and sometimes stay the sinking head on her 
gentle arms, sometimes rest it on her compassionate 
bosom. See ! how she gazes, with a speechless ardour, 
on the pale countenance and meagre features. Speech- 

* Texts of Scripture, proper for such an occasion; containing 
promises — of support under affliction, Lam. iii. 32. Heb. xii. 6. 2 Cor. 
iv. 17 — of pardon, Isa. liii. 5. Isa. i. 18. 1 John, ii. 1, 2. Acts, x. 
43— of justification, Rom. v. 9. Rom. viii. 33, 34. 2 Cor. v. 21— of 
victory over death, Psal. xxiii. 4. Psal. lxxiii. 26. 1 Cor. xv. 56, 
57 — of a happy resurrection, John, vi. 40. 2 Cor. v. 1. Rev. vii. 
16, 17. 



'/O MEDITATIONS 



less her tongue ; but she looks unutterable things ; while 
all her soft passions throb with unavailing fondness, and 
her very soul bleeds with exquisite anguish. 

The sufferer, all patient and adoring, submits to the 
divine will ; and, by submission, becomes superior to 
his affliction. He is sensibly touched with the discon- 
solate state vf his attendants, and pierced with an anx- 
ious concern for his wife and children : his wife, who 
will soon be a destitute widow; his children, who will 
soon be helpless orphans. " Yet, though cast down, not 
in despair." He is greatly refreshed by his trust in the 
everlasting covenant, and his hope of approaching glory. 
Religion gives a dignity to distress. At each interval 
of ease, he comforts his very comforters ; and suffers 
with all the majesty of woe. 

The soul, just going to abandon the tottering clay, 
collects all her force, and exerts her last efforts. The 
good man raises himself on his pillow ; extends a kind 
hand to his servants, which is bathed in tears ; takes an 
affecting farewell of his friends ; clasps his wife in a fee- 
ble embrace ; kisses the dear pledges of their mutual 
love ; and then pours all that remains of life and of 
strength, in the following words : — " I die, my dear 
children; but God, the everlasting God, will be with 
you. Though you lose an earthly parent, you have a 
Father in heaven, who lives for evermore. Nothing, 
nothing but an unbelieving heart and irreligious life can 
ever separate you from the regards of his providence — 
from the endearments of his love." 

He could proceed no farther. His heart was full, but 
utterance failed. After a short pause, with difficulty, 
great difficulty, he added: " You, the dear partner of 
my soul, you are now the only protector of our orphans. 
I leave you under a weight of cares. But God, who 
defendeth the cause of the widow — God, whose promise 
is faithfulness and truth— God hath said, I will never 
leave thee nor forsake thee* This revives my drooping 
spirits — let this support the wife of my bosom — and now, 
* Heb. xiii. 5. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 7| 



O Father of Compassions, into thy hands I commend my 
spirit — encouraged by thy promised goodness, Heave my 
fatherless — " 

Here he fainted ; fell back upon the bed ; and lay for 
some minutes bereft of his senses. As a taper , upon the 
very point of extinction, is sometimes suddenly re- 
kindled, and leaps into a quivering flame ; so life, before 
it totally expired, gave a parting struggle, and once more 
looked abroad from the opening eyelids. He would fain 
have spoke ; fain have uttered the sentence he began. 
More than once he essayed : but the organs of speech 
were become like a broken vessel ; and nothing but the 
obstructing phlegm rattled in his throat. His aspect, 
however, spoke affection inexpressible. With all the 
father, all the husband still living in his looks, he takes 
one more view of those dear children, whom he had often 
beheld with a parental triumph. He turns his dying eyes 
on that beloved woman, whom he never beheld but with 
a glow of delight. Fixed in this posture, amidst smiles 
of love, and under a gleam of heaven, they shine out 
their last. 

Upon this, the silent sorrow bursts into loud laments. 
They wreep, and refuse to be comforted; till some length 
of time had given vent to the excess of passion, and the 
consolations of religion had staunched their bleeding 
woes. Then the afflicted family search for the sentence, 
which fell unfinished from those loved, those venerable 
and pious lips. They find it recorded by the prophet 
Jeremiah, containing the direction of Infinite Wisdom, 
and the promise of unbounded Goodness : Leave thy 
fatherless children ; I will preserve them alive ; and let 
thy widows trust in me* This now, is the comfort of 
their life, and the joy of their heart. They treasure it 
up in their memories. It is the best of legacies, and an 
inexhaustible fund ; a fund which will supply all their 
wants, by entailing the blessing of Heaven on all their 
honest labors. They are rich, they are happy in this 
sacred pledge of the divine favor. They fear no evil ; 
* Jer. xlix. 11* 



72 MEDITATION 



they want no good ; because God is their portion, and 
their guardian God. 

No sooner turned from one memento of my own, and 
memorial of another's decease, but a second, a third, a 
long succession of these melancholy monitors crowd 
upon my sight.* That which has fixed my observation, 
is one of a more grave and sable aspect than the former. 
I suppose it preserves the relics of a more aged person. 
One would conjecture, that he made somewhat of a 
figure in his station among the living ; as his monument 
does among the funeral marbles. Let me draw near, 
and inquire of the stone, ' who, or what, is beneath its 
surface.' I am informed, he was once the owner of a 
considerable estate ; which was much improved by his 
own application and management : that he left the world 
in the busy period of life, advanced a little beyond the 
meridian. 

Probably, replied my musing mind, one of those i?i- 
defatigable drudges, who rise early, late take rest, and 
eat the bread of carefulness ; not to secure the loving- 
kindness of the Lord ; not to make provision for any 
reasonable necessity ; but only to amass together ten 
thousand times more than they can possibly use. Did 
he not lay schemes for enlarging his fortune, and ag- 
grandizing his family? Did he not purpose to join field 
to field, and add house to house; till his possessions 
were almost as vast as his desires? That, then, he 
would sit down, and enjoy what he had acquired ;f 
breathe a while from his toilsome pursuit of things tem- 
poral, and, perhaps, think a little of things eternal. 

But see the folly of worldly wisdom ! How silly, how 
childish, is the sagacity of (what is called) manly and 
master prudence ; when it contrives more solicitously for 
time than it provides for eternity ! How strangely 
infatuated are those subtle heads, which weary them- 



* Plurima mortis imago. — Virgil . 

•\ Hoc mente laborem 

Sese ferre, senes ut in otia tuta recedant, 
Aiunt, cum sibi sint congesta cibaria. — Horace. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 73 

selves in concerting measures for phantoms of a day ; 
and scarce bestow a thought on everlasting realities ! 
When every wheel moves on smoothly ; when all the well 
disposed designs are ripening apace for execution ; and 
the long-expected crisis of enjoyment seems to approach; 
behold ! God from an high laughs at the Babel-builder. 
Death touches the bubble, and it breaks, it drops into 
nothing. The cobweb, most finely spun indeed, but 
more easily dislodged, is swept aw T ay in an instant ; and 
all the abortive projects are buried in the same grave 
with their projector. So true is that verdict which the 
wisdom from above passes on these successful unfortu- 
nates : " They walk in a vain shadow, and disquiet 
themselves in vain."* 

Speak, ye that attended such a one in his last minutes; 
ye that heard his expiring sentiments ; did he not cry 
out, in the language of disappointed sensuality, u 
death ! how terrible is thy approach to a man immersed 
in secular cares, and void of all concern for the never- 
ending hereafter! Where, alas! is the profit, where the 
comfort of entering deep into the knowledge, and of 
being dexterous in the despatch of earthly affairs ; since 
I have all the while neglected the one thing needful! 
Destructive mistake ! I have been attentive to every 
inferior interest ; I have laid myself out on the trifles 
of a moment; but have disregarded heaven; have forgot 
eternal ages ! ! that my days" — here he was going 
on to breathe out some fruitless wishes, or to form I 
know not what ineffectual resolutions : but a sudden 
convulsion shook his nerves ; disabled his tongue ; and, 
in less than an hour, dissolved his frame. 

May the children of this world be warned by the 
dying words of an unhappy brother, and gather advan- 
tage from his misfortune. Why should they pant, with 
such impatient ardor, after white and yellow earth ; as if 
the universe did not afford sufficient for every one to take 
a little? Why should they lade themselves with thick 
clay, when they are to " run for an incorruptible crown, 
* Psal. xxxix. 6. 



74 MEDITATIONS 



and press toward the prize of their high calling?' 5 Why 
should they overload the vessel, in which their everlast- 
ing all is embarked ; or fill their arms with superfluities, 
when they are to swim for their lives ? Yet, so prepos- 
terous is the conduct of those persons, who are all in- 
dustry to heap up an abundance of the wealth which 
perisheth, but are scarce so much as faintly desirous of 
being rich towards God. 

! that we may walk, through all these glittering 
toys, at least with a wise indifference, if not with a su- 
perior disdain ! Having enough for the conveniences 
of life, let us only accommodate ourselves with things 
below, and lay up our treasures in the regions above. 
Whereas, if we indulge an anxious concern, or lavish 
an inordinate care, on any transitory possessions, we 
shall rivet them to our affections with so firm a union, 
that the utmost severity of pain must attend the separat- 
ing stroke. By such an eager attachment to what will 
certainly be ravished from us, we shall only insure to 
ourselves accumulated anguish against the agonizing hour. 
We shall plant, aforehand, our dying pillow with thorns.* 

Some, I perceive, arrived at threescore years and ten 
before they made their exit ; nay, some few resigned not 
their breath till they had numbered fourscore revolving 
harvests. These, I would hope, " remembered their 
Creator in the days of their youth!" before their strength 
became labor and sorrow ; before that low ebb of lan- 
guishing nature, when the keepers of the house tremble, 
and those that look out of the windows are darkened :\ 
when even the lighting down of the grasshopper is a 

* Lean not on earth ; 'twill pierce thee to the heart ; 
A broken reed at best, but oft a spear : 
On its sharp point peace bleeds, and hope expires. 

Night Thoughts. 
•j- EccL xii. 3, 5. — I need not remind my reader, that by the former 
of these figurative expressions, is signified the enervated state of the 
hands and arms ; by the latter, the dimness of the eyes, or the total 
loss of sight: that, taken in connection with other parts of the chap- 
ter, they exhibit, in a series of bold and lively metaphors, a descrip- 
tion of the various infirmities attendant on old age. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 75 



burden on the bending shoulders; and desire itself fails 
in the listless, lethargic soul ; — before those heavy hours 
come, and those tiresome moments draw nigh, in which 
there is too much reason to say, " we have no pleasure in 
them ; no improvement from them." 

If their lamps were unfurnished with oil, how unfit 
must they be, in such decrepid circumstances, to go to 
the market, and buy !* For, besides a variety of disorders, 
arising from the enfeebled constitution, their corruptions 
must be surprisingly strengthened by such a long course 
of irreligion. Evil habits must have struck the deepest 
root ; must have twisted themselves with every fibre of 
the heart ; and be as thoroughly ingrained in the dispo- 
sition, as the soot in the Ethiopians complexion, or the 
spots in the leopard's skin. If such a one, under such 
disadvantages, surmounts all the difficulties which lie in 
his way to glory, it must be a great and mighty salva- 
tion indeed. If such a one escapes destruction, and is 
saved at the last ; it must, without all peradventure, be 
— so as by fire.\ 

This is the season w T hich stands in need of comfort, 
and it is very improper to enter upon the conflict. The 
husbandman should now be putting in his sickle, or 
eating the fruit of his labors ; not beginning to break up 
the ground, or scatter the seed. Nothing, 'tis true, is 
impossible with God. He said, Let there be light, and 
there was light ; instantaneous light diffused, as quick as 
thought, through all the dismal dominion of primeval 
darkness. At his command, a leprosy of the longest 
continuance, and of the utmost inveteracy, departs in a 
moment. He can, in the greatness of his strength, quicken 
the wretch who has laid dead in trespasses and sins, not 
four days only, but fourscore years. Yet trust not, 
trust not, a point of such inexpressible importance to so 
dreadful an uncertainty. God may suspend his power ; 
may withdraw his help ; may sw T ear, in his wrath, that 
such abusers of his long-suffering shall " never enter 
into his rest." 

* Matt. xxv. 9. f 1 Cor. iii. 15. 



76 MEDITATIONS 



Ye, therefore, that are vigorous in health, and bloom- 
ing in years, improve the precious opportunity. Im- 
prove your golden hours to the noblest of all purposes : 
such as may render you meet for the inheritance of saints 
in light ; and ascertain your title in a state of immortal 
youth, to a crown of eternal glory.* Stand not, all the 
prime of your day, idle : trifle no longer with the offers 
of this immense felicity : but make haste, and delay not 
the time, to keep God's commandments. While you are 
loitering in a gay insensibility , death may be bending his 
bow, and marking you out for speedy victims. Not long 
ago, I happened to spy a thoughtless jay. The poor 
bird was idly busied in dressing his pretty plumes, or 
hopping carelessly from spray to spray. A sportsman 
coming by observes the feathered rover; immediately 
he lifts the tube, and levels his blow. Swifter than 
whirlwind flies the leaden death ; and, in a moment, 
lays the silly creature breathless on the ground. Such, 
such may be the fate of the man who has a fair occasion 
of obtaining grace to-day, and wantonly postpones the 
improvement of it till to-morrow. He may be cut off 
in the midst of his folly, and ruined forever while he is 
dreaming of being wise hereafter. 

Some, no doubt, came to this their last retreat, full 
of piety and full of days; "as a shock of corn, ripe 
with age and laden with plenty, cometh in his season. "f 
These were children of light, and wise in their genera- 
tion ; wise with that exalted wisdom which cometh from 

* May I be permitted to recommend, as a treasure of inestimable 
value, and a treatise particularly apposite to my subject, Dr. Lucas's 
Inquiry after Happiness? that part especially, which displa)^ the 
method, and enumerates the advantages of improving life, or living 
much in a little time, chap. iii. p. 158, of the 6th edit.^-An author, in 
whom the gentleman, the scholar, and the Christian, are most hap- 
pily united — a performance, which, in point of solid argument, unaf- 
fected piety, and a vein of thought amazingly fertile, has, perhaps, 
no superior. Nor can I wish my reader a more refined pleasure, or 
a more substantial happiness, than that of having the sentiments of 
this entertaining and pathetic writer woven into the very texture of 
his heart. 

f Job, v. 26. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 77 

above, and with that enduring wisdom which lasts to 
eternity. Rich also they were, more honorably and per- 
manently rich, than all the votaries of Mammon. The 
wealth of the one has made itself wings, and is irrecover- 
ably gone ; while the wretched acquirers are transmitted 
to that place of penury and pain, where not so much as 
one drop of water is allowed to cool their scorching 
tongues. The stores of the other still abide w T ith them ; 
will never depart from them ; but make them glad for- 
ever and ever, in the city of their God. Their trea- 
sures were such as no created power could take away ; 
such as none but infinite beneficence can bestow ; and 
(comfortable to consider !) such as I, and every indigent 
longing sinner, may obtain ; treasures of heavenly know- 
ledge and saving faith ; treasures of atoning blood and 
imputed righteousness. 

Here* lie their bodies in " peaceable habitations, and 

* Some, I know, are offended at our burying corpses within the 
church; and exclaim against it, as a very great impropriety and inde- 
cency. But this, I imagine, proceeds from an excessive and mistaken 
delicacy. If proper care be taken to secure from injury the founda- 
tions of the building, and to prevent the exhalation of any noxious 
effluvia from the putrefying flesh, I cannot discover any inconve- 
niences attending this practice. 

The notion that noisome carcasses (as they are called) are very 
unbecoming a place consecrated to religious purposes, seems to be 
derived from the antiquated Jewish canon, whereby it was declared, 
that a dead body imparted defilement to the person who touched it, 
and polluted the spot where it was lodged; on which account the 
Jews were scrupulously careful to have their sepulchres built at a 
distance from their houses ; and made it a point of conscience not 
to suffer burial places to subsist in the city. But as this was a rite 
purely ceremonial, it seems to be entirely superseded by the Gospel 
dispensation. 

I cannot forbear thinking that, under the Christian economy, there 
is a propriety and usefulness in the custom. Usefulness, because it 
must render our solemn assemblies more venerable and awful. For 
when we walk over the dust of our friends, or knee' upon the ashes 
of our relations, this awakening circumstance must strike a lively 
impression of our own mortality. And what consideration can be 
more effectual, to make us serious and attentive in hearing, earnest 
and importunate in praying] 

As for the fitness of the usage, it seems perfectly suitable to the 
design of those sacred edifices. They are set apart for God, not only 



78 MEDITATIONS 



quiet resting places." Here, they have thrown off every 
burden^ and are escaped from every snare. The head 
aches no more ; the eye forgets to weep ; the flesh is no 
longer racked with acute, nor wasted with lingering dis- 
tempers. Here, they receive a final release from pain, 
and an everlasting discharge from sorrow. Here, danger 
never threatens them with her terrifying alarms ; but 
tranquillity softens their couch, and safety guards iheir 
repose. Rest, then, ye precious relics, within this hos- 
pitable gloom. Rest in gentle slumbers, till the last 
trumpet shall give the welcome signal ; and~sound aloud, 
through all your silent mansions, " Arise ; shine ; for 

to receive his worshippers, but to preserve the furniture for holy 
ministrations, and what is, in a peculiar manner, appropriated to the 
Divine Majesty. Are not the bodies of the saints the Almighty's 
property ] Were they not once the objects of his tender love ? Are 
they not still the subjects of his special care ? Has he not given com- 
mandment concerning the bones of his elect ; and charged the ocean, 
and enjoined the grave, to keep them until that day ? When rocks 
bright with gems, or mountains rich with mines, are abandoned to 
the devouring flames, will not these be rescued from the fiery ruin 1 
Will not these be translated into Jehovah's kingdom, and, conjointly 
with the soul, made "his jewels;" made "his peculiar treasure;" 
made to shine as the brightness of the firmament, and as the stars 
forever and ever 1 

Is not Christ the Lord of our bodies? Are they not bought with a 
price ; bought, not with corruptible things, silver and gold, but with 
his divinely precious blood ] And, if the blessed Jesus obtained the 
redemption of our bodies at so infinitely dear a rate, can it enter into 
our hearts to conceive that he should dislike to have them reposed 
under his own habitation ] Once more ; are not the bodies of the 
faithful, temples of the Holy Ghost ? And is there not, upon this sup- 
position, an apparent propriety, rather than the least indecorum, in 
remitting these temples of flesh to the temples made with hands ] 
They are vessels of honor, instruments of righteousness ; and, even 
when broken by death, like the fragments of a golden bowl, are 
valuable ; are worthy to be laid up in the safest, most honorable re- 
positories. 

Upon the whole, since the Lord Jesus has purchased them at the 
expense of his blood, and the blessed Spirit has honored them with 
his in-dwelling presence ; since they are right dear in the sight of 
the adorable Trinity, and undoubted heirs of a glorious immortality ; 
why should it be thought a thing improper, to admit them to a tran- 
sient rest in their heavenly Father's house 1 Why may they not lie 
down and sleep in the outer courts, since they are soon to be intro 
duced into the inmost mansions of everlasting honor and joy] 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 79 

your light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen 
upon you."* 

To these, how calm was the evening of life ! In what 
a smiling serenity did their sun go down ! When their 
flesh and their heart failed, how reviving was the remem- 
brance of an all-sufficient Redeemer, once dying for their 
sins, now risen again for their justification ! How cheer- 
ing the well-grounded hope of pardon for their trans- 
gressions, and peace with God, through Jesus Christ our 
Lord ! How did this assuage the agonies, and sweeten 
the bitterness of death ? Where now is wealth, with 
all her golden mountains ? Where is honor, with her 
proud trophies of renown ? Where are all the vain 
pomps of a deluded world? Can they inspire such com- 
fort, can they administer any support, in this last ex- 
tremity ? Can they compose the affrighted thoughts ? or 
buoy up the departing soul, amidst all the pangs of dis- 
solution ? The followers of the Lamb seem pleased and 
triumphant, even at their last gasp. " God's everlast- 
ing arms are underneath"! their fainting heads. His 
Spirit wdiispers peace and consolation to their con- 
sciences. In the strength of these heavenly succours, 
they quit the field, not captives, but conquerors, with 
" hopes full of immortality." 

And now they are gone. The struggles of reluctant 
nature are over. The body sleeps in death ; the soul 
launches into the invisible state. But who can imagine 
the delightful surprise, when they find themselves sur- 
rounded by guardian angels, instead of weeping friends ? 
How securely do they wing their way, and pass through 
unknown worlds, under the conduct of those celestial 
guides ? The vale of tears is quite lost. Farewell, for 
ever, the realms of woe, and range of malignant beings ! 
They arrive on the frontiers of inexpressible felicity. 
They " are come to the city of the living God :" while 
a voice sweeter than music in her softest strains, sweet 
as the harmony of hymning seraphim, congratulates their 

* Isa. lx. 1. f Deut. xxxiii. 27. 



& 



gO MEDITATIONS 



arrival, and bespeaks their admission : Lift up your head, 
ye gates ; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, that 
the heirs of glory may enter in. 

Here, then, let us leave the spirits and souls of the 
righteous ; escaped from an entangling wilderness, and 
received into a paradise of delights ! escaped from the 
territories of disquietude, and settled in regions of unmo- 
lested security ! Here, they sit down with Abraham, 
Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of their Father. Here, 
they mingle w T ith an innumerable company of angels, 
and rejoice around the throne of the Lamb : rejoice in 
the fruition of present felicity, and in the assured expecta- 
tion of an inconceivable addition to their bliss ; when 
God shall call the heavens from above, and the earth, that 
he may judge his people * 

Fools accounted their lives madness, and their end to be 
without honor : but they are numbered among the children 
of God; and their lot, their distinguished and eternal 
lot, is among the saints /f However, therefore, an undis- 
cerning world may despise, and a profane world vilify, 
the truly religious ; be this the supreme, the invariable 
desire of my heart : " Let me live the life and die the 
death of the righteous. Oh ! let my latter end and future 
state be like theirs !" 

What figure is that which strikes my eye from an 
eminent part of the wall ? It is not only placed in a 
more elevated situation than the rest, but carries a more 
splendid and sumptuous air than ordinary. Swords and 
spears, murdering engines and instruments of slaughter, 



* Seneca's reflections upon the state of holy souls delivered from 
the burden of the flesh, are sparkling and fine, yet very indistinct and 
empty compared with the particulars mentioned above, and with 
many others that might be collected from Scripture. In hoc tarn 
procelloso et in omnes tempestates expusito navigantibus mari, nullus 
partus nisi mortis est. Ne itaque invideris fratri tuo ,• quiescit. Tan- 
dem liber, tandem tutus, tandem set emus est. Fruitur nunc aperto et 
liber o coelo ,• ex humili et depresso, in eum emicuit locum, qui solutas 
vinculis animas beato recipit sinu ,• et nunc omnia rerum natura bona 
cum summa voluptate percipit. Se2T ad Poltb. 

\ Wisdom, v. 4, 5. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. Ql 

adorn the stone with a formidable magnificence. — It 
proves to be the monument of a noble warrior. 

Is such respect, thought I, paid to the memory of this 
brave soldier for sacrificing his life to the public good ! 
Then what honors, what immortal honors, are due to 
the great Captain of our salvation ? who, though Lord 
of the angelic legions, and supreme Commander of all 
the heavenly hosts, willingly offered himself a bleeding 
propitiation for sinners ! 

The one died, being a mortal, and only yielded up a 
life which was long before forfeited to divine justice : 
which must soon have been surrendered as a debt to 
nature if it had not fallen as a prey to war. But Christ 
took flesh and gave up the ghost, though he was the 
great I Am, the fountain of existence, who calls happi- 
ness and immortality all his own. He who thought it 
no robbery to be equal with God, he whose outgoings 
were from everlasting, even he was made in the likeness 
of man, and cut off out of the land of the living. Won- 
der, heavens ! be astonished, earth ! He died the 
death of whom it is witnessed, that he is " the true God 
and eternal life."* 

The one exposed himself to the peril in the service of 
his sovereign and his country, which, though it was glo- 
rious to do, yet would have been ignominious in such 
circumstances to have declined. But Christ took the 
field, though he was the blessed and only Potentate ; the 
King of kings, and Lord of lords. But Christ took the 
field, though he was sure to drop in the engagement ; 
and put on the harness, though he knew beforehand that 
it must reek with his blood. That Prince of heaven 
resigned his royal person, not barely to the hazard, but 
to the inevitable stroke ; to death, certain in its approach 
and armed with all its horrors. And for whom ? Not 
for those who were in any degree deserving, but for his 
disobedient creatures, for the pardon of condemned male- 
factors ; for a band of rebels, a race of traitors, the most 

* 1 John, v. 20. 



82 MEDITATIONS 



obnoxious and inexcusable of all criminals, whom he 
might have left to perish in their iniquities, without the 
least impeachment of his goodness, and to the display 
of his avenging justice. 

The one it is probable, died expeditiously ; was sud- 
denly wounded, and soon slain. A bullet lodged in his 
heart, a sword sheathed in his breast, or a battle-axe 
cleaving the brain, might put a speedy end to his mis- 
ery, despatch him u as in a moment ;" whereas the 
divine Redeemer expired in tedious and protracted tor- 
ments. His pangs were as lingering as they were ex- 
quisite. Even in the prelude to his last sufferings, what 
a load of sorrows overwhelmed his sacred humanity! 
till the intolerable pressure wrung blood, instead of 
sweat, from every pore : till the crimson flood stained 
all his raiment and tinged the very stones. But, when 
the last scene of the tragedy commenced ; when the 
executioner's hammer had nailed him to the cross ; ! 
how many dismal hours did that illustrious sufferer hang, 
a spectacle of woe to God, to angels, and to men ! His 
temples mangled with the thorny crown ! his hands and 
feet cleft with the rugged irons ! his whole body covered 
with wounds and bruises ! and his soul, his very soul, 
pierced with pangs of unutterable distress. 

So long he hung, that nature through all her domin- 
ions was thrown into sympathizing commotions. The 
earth could no longer sustain such barbarous indignities 
without trembling, nor the sun behold them without hor- 
ror. Nay, so long did he hang in this extremity of 
agony and torture, that the alarm reached even the 
remote regions of the dead. Never, my soul, never 
forget the amazing truth. The Lamb of God was seized, 
was bound, was slaughtered with the utmost inhumanity, 
and endured death in all its bitterness for thee ! His 
murderers, studiously cruel, so guided the fatal cup, that 
he tasted every drop of its gall, before he drank it off to 
the very dregs. 

Once again ; the warrior died like a hero, and fell 
gallantly in the field of battle. But died not Christ as a 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 83 

fool dieth ?* Not on the bed of honor, with scars of 
glory in his breast ; but like some execrable miscreant 
on a gibbet, with the lashes of the vile scourge on his 
back. Yes, the blessed Jesus bowed his expiring head 
on the accursed tree, suspended between heaven and 
earth, as an outcast from both, and unworthy of either. 

What suitable returns of inflamed and adoring devo- 
tion can we make to the Holy One of God ; thus dying, 
that we might live ; dying in ignominy and anguish, 
that we might live for ever in the heights of joy, and sit 
for ever on thrones of glory ? Alas ! it is not in us, im- 
potent, insensible mortals, to be duly thankful. He only 
who confers such inconceivably rich favors, can enkin- 
dle a proper warmth of grateful affections. Then build 
thyself a monument, most gracious Immanuel, build thy- 
self an everlasting monument of gratitude in our souls. 
Inscribe the memory of thy matchless beneficence, not 
with ink and pen, but with that precious blood which 
gushed from thy wounded veins. Engrave it, not with 
the hammer and chisel, but with that sharpened spear 
which pierced thy sacred side. Let it stand conspicu- 
ous and indelible, not on outward tables of stone, but 
on the very inmost tables of our hearts. 

One thing more let me observe, before I bid adieu to 
this entombed warrior, and his garnished sepulchre. 
How mean are these ostentatious methods, of bribing the 
vote of fame, and purchasing a little posthumous renown ! 
What a poor substitute for a set of memorable actions, 
is polished alabaster, or the mimicry of sculptured mar- 
ble ! The real excellency of this bleeding patriotf is 

* 2 Sam. iii. 33. — Of this indignity our Lord complains : Are you 
come out as against a thief?— Matt. xxvi. 55. 

f Sir Bevil Granville, slain in the civil wars, at an engagement 
with the rebels. It may possibly be some entertainment to the 
reader, if I subjoin Sir BeviVs character, as it is drawn by that cele- 
brated pen which wrote the history of those calamitous times : " That 
which would have clouded any victory, says the noble historian, ana 
made the loss of others less spoken of, was the death of Sir Bevil 
Granville. He was indeed an excellent person, whose activity, inter- 
est, and reputation, were the foundation of what had been done in 
Cornwall: his temper and affections so public, that no accident 



84 MEDITATIONS 



written on the minds of his countrymen ; it would be 
remembered with applause so long as the nation subsists, 
without this artificial expedient to perpetuate it. And 
such, such is the monument I would wish for myself. 
Let me leave a memorial in the breasts of my fellow- 
creatures. Let surviving friends bear witness, that I 
have not lived to myself alone, nor been altogether un- 
serviceable in my generation. Oh ! let an uninterrupted 
series of beneficent offices be the inscription; and the best 
interests of my acquaintance the plate that exhibits it. 

Let the poor, as they pass by my grave, point at the 
little spot, and thankfully acknowledge, " There lies the 
man, whose unwearied kindness was the constant relief 
of my various distresses ; who tenderly visited my lan- 
guishing bed, and readily supplied my indigent circum- 
stances. How often were his counsels a guide to my 
perplexed thoughts, and a cordial to my dejected spirits! 
'Tis owing to God's blessing, on his seasonable chari- 
ties, and prudent consolations, that I now live, and live 
in comfort." Let a person, once ignorant and ungodly, 
lift up his eyes to heaven, and say within himself, as 
he walks over my bones, " Here are the last remains of 
that sincere friend, who watched for ray soul. I can 
never forget with what heedless gaiety I was posting on 
in the paths of perdition ; and I tremble to think into 
what irretrievable ruin I might quickly have been 
plunged, had not his faithful admonitions arrested me in 
the wild career. I was unacquainted with the Gospel 
of peace, and had no concern for its unsearchable treas- 
ures : but now, enlightened by his instructive conversa- 
tion, I see the all- sufficiency of my Saviour, and animated 
by his repeated exhortations, I count all things but loss, 
that I may win Christ. Methinks, his discourses, sea- 
soned with religion, and set home by the divine Spirit, 

which happened could make any impression upon him: and his 
example kept others from taking any thing ill, or at least seeming to 
do so. In a word, a brighter courage and a gentler disposition were 
never married together, to make the most cheerful and innocent con- 
versation." Clar. Hist. Reb. vol. ii. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. Q5 

still tingle in my ears, are still warm upon my heart ? 
and, I trust, will be more and more operative, till we 
meet each other in the house not made with hands, eter- 
nal in the heavens." 

The only infallible way of immortalizing our charac- 
ters, a way equally open to the meanest and most exalted 
fortune, is, " To make our calling and election sure," 
to gain some sweet evidence that our names are written 
in heaven. Then, however they may be disregarded or 
forgotten among men, they will not fail to be had in 
everlasting remembrance before the Lord. This is, of 
all distinctions, far the noblest. Ambition, be this thy 
object, and every page of Scripture will sanctify thy pas- 
sion ; even grace itself will fan thy flame. As to earthly 
memorials, yet a little while, and they are all obliterated. 
The tongue of those, whose happiness we have zealously 
promoted, must soon be silent in the coffin. Characters 
cut with a pen of iron, and committed to the solid rock, 
will ere long cease to be legible.* But as many as are 
enrolled " in the Lamb's book of life," He himself de- 
clares, shall never be blotted out from those annals of 
eternity. f When a flight of years has mouldered the 
triumphal column into dust ; when the brazen statue 
perishes under the corroding hand of time ; those honors 
still continue, still are blooming and incorruptible in the 
world of glory. 

Make the extended skies your tomb ; 

Let stars record your worth : 
Yet, know, vain mortals, all must die, 

As nature's sickliest birth. 

Would bounteous Heaven indulge my prayer, 

I frame a nobler choice ; 
Nor, living, wish the pompous pile ; 

Nor, dead, regret the loss. 

In thy fair book of life divine, 

My God, inscribe my name : 
There let it fill some humble place, 

Beneath the slaughtered Lamb. 

* Data sunt ipsis quoquefaia sepulchris. — Jo v. 

f Rev. iii. 5. 



86 MEDITATIONS 



Thy saints, while ages roll away, 

In endless fame survive ; 

Their glories, o'er the wrongs of time 

Greatly triumphant, live. 

Yonder entrance leads, I suppose, to the vault. Let 
me turn aside, and take one view of the habitation, and 
its tenants. The sullen door grates upon its hinges ; not 
used to receive many visitants, it admits me with reluc- 
tance and murmurs. What meaneth this sudden trepida- 
tion^ while I descend the steps, and am visiting the pale 
nations of the dead ? Be composed, my spirits ; there 
is nothing to fear in these quiet chambers. " Here, even 
the wicked cease from troubling." 

Good heavens ! what a solemn scene ! How dismal 
the gloom ! Here is perpetual darkness, and night even 
at noon-day. How doleful the solitude ! Not one trace 
of cheerful society ; but sorrow and terror seem to have 
made this their dreadful abode. Hark ! how the hollow 
dome resounds at every tread. The echoes, that have 
long slept, are awakened ; and lament ; and sigh along 
the walls. 

A beam or two finds its way through the grates, and 
reflects a feeble glimmer from the nails of the coffins. So 
many of those sad spectacles, half concealed in shades, 
half seen dimly by the baleful twilight, add a deeper 
horror to these gloomy mansions. I pore upon the in- 
scriptions, and am just able to pick out, that these are 
the remains of the rich and renowned. No vulgar dead 
are deposited here. The most illustrious and right hon- 
orable have claimed this for their last retreat: and, 
indeed, they retain somewhat of a shadowy pre-emi- 
nence. They lie, ranged in mournful order, and in a 
sort of silent pomp, under the arches of an ample sepul- 
chre ; while meaner corpses, without much ceremony, 
" go down to the stones of the pit." 

My apprehensions recover from their surprise. I find 
here are no phantoms, but such as fear raises. How- 
ever, it still amazes me to observe the wonders of this 
nether world. Those who received vast revenues, and 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 37 

called whole lordships their own, are here reduced to 
half a dozen feet of earth, or confined to a few sheets of 
lead. Rooms of state and sumptuous furniture are re- 
signed, for no other ornament than the shroud, for no 
other apartment than the darksome niche. Where is the 
star that blazed upon the breast, or coronet that glittered 
round the temples ? The only remains of departed dig- 
nity, are, the weather-beaten hatchment and the tattered 
escutcheon. I see no splendid retinue surrounding this 
solitary dwelling. The lordly equipage hovers no more 
about the lifeless master. He has no other attendant 
than a dusty statue, which while the regardless world is 
as gay as ever, the sculptor's hand has taught to weep. 

Those who gloried in high-born ancestors and noble 
pedigree, here drop their lofty pretensions. They ac- 
knowledge kindred with creeping things, and quarter 
J arms with the meanest reptiles. They say to corruption, 
Thou art my father ; and to the worm, Thou art my mo- 
ther and my sister. Or, should they still assume the 
style of distinction, ah ! how impotent were the claim ; 
how apparent the ostentation ! Is it said by their monu- 
ment, " Here lies the great?" How easily is it replied 
by the spectator ! 

False marble ! where ; 

Nothing but poor and sordid dust lies here. 

Mortifying truth ! Sufficient, one would think, to 
wean the most sanguine appetite from this transitory state 
of things ; from its sickly satisfactions, its fading glories, 
its vanishing treasures : 

For now, ye lying vanities of life ! 

Ye ever-tempting, ever-cheating train ! 

Where are ye now 1 And what is your amount 1 

What is all the world to these poor breathless beings ? 
What are their pleasures ? A bubble broke. What 
their honors ? A dream that is forgotten. What the 
sum total of their enjoyments below ? Once, perhaps, it 
appeared, to inexperienced and fond desire, something 
considerable ; but now death has measured it with his 



88 MEDITATIONS 



line and weighed it in his scale, what is the upshot ? 
Alas ! it is shorter than a span ; lighter than the dancing 
spark ; and driven away like dissolving smoke. 

Indulge, my soul, a serious pause. Recollect all the 
gay things that were wont to dazzle thy eyes and in- 
veigle thy affections. Here examine those baits of sense ; 
here form an estimate of their real value. Suppose thy- 
self first among the favorites of fortune, who revel in 
the lap of pleasure, who shine in the robes of honor, 
and swim in tides of inexhausted riches. Yet, how soon 
will the passing bell proclaim thy exit? And, when 
once that iron call has summoned thee to thy future reck- 
oning, where would all these gratifications be ? At that 
period, how will all the pageantry of the most affluent, 
splendid, or luxurious circumstances, vanish into empty 
air! And, is this a happiness so passionately to be 
coveted ? 

I thank you, ye relics of sounding titles and magnifi- 
cent names. Ye have taught me more of the littleness 
of the world than all the volumes of my library. Your 
nobility arrayed in a winding-sheet, your grandeur mould- 
ering in an urn, are the indisputable proofs of the nothing- 
ness of created things. Never, surely, did Providence 
write this important point in such legible characters, as 
in the ashes of my lord, or on the corpse of his grace * 
Let others, if they please, pay their obsequious court to 
your wealthy sons, and ignobly fawn, or anxiously sue, 
for preferments : my thoughts shall often resort, in pen- 
sive contemplation, to the sepulchres of their sires ; and 
learn, from their sleeping dust — to moderate my expecta- 
tions from mortals, to stand disengaged from every undue 
attachment to the little interests of time, to get above the 
delusive amusements of honor, the gaudy tinsels of wealth, 
and all the empty shadows of a perishing world. 

Hark! what sound is that? In such a situation every 
noise alarms. Solemn and slow, it breaks again upon 
the silent air. 'Tis the striking of the clock ; designed, 



Mors sola fatetur 



Quantula sint hominum corpuscula I — Juvenal. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 89 

one would imagine, to ratify all my serious meditations. 
Methinks it says Amen, and sets a seal to every improv- 
ing hint. It tells me, that another portion of my ap- 
pointed time is elapsed. One calls it, " the knell of 
my departed hours." 'Tis the watchword to vigilance 
and activity. It cries in the ear of reason, " Redeem 
the time. Catch the favorable gales of opportunity : O ! 
catch them, while they breathe ; before they are irre- 
coverably lost. The span of life shortens continually. 
Thy minutes are all upon the wing, and hastening to be 
gone. Thou art a borderer upon eternity, and making 
incessant advances to the state thou art contemplating." 
May the admonition sink deep into an attentive and 
obedient mind ! May it teach me that heavenly arith- 
metic, of " numbering my days, and applying my heart 
unto wisdom!" 

I have often walked beneath the impending promon- 
tory's craggy cliff; I have sometimes trod the vast spaces 
of the lonely desert, and penetrated the inmost recesses 
of the dreary cavern : but never, never beheld nature 
lowering with so tremendous a form ; never felt such im- 
pressions of awe striking cold on my heart, as under 
these black-browed arches, amidst these mouldy walls, 
and surrounded by such rueful objects ; where melan- 
choly, deepest melancholy, forever spreads her raven 
wings ! Let me now emerge from the damp and dread- 
ful obscurity ! Farewell, ye seats of desolation, and 
shades of death ! Gladly I revisit the realms of day. 

Having cast a superficial view upon these receptacles 
of the dead, curiosity prompts my inquiry to a more inti- 
mate survey. Could we draw back the covering of the 
tomb ; could we discern what those are now who once 
were mortals — ! how would it surprise and grieve us ! 
— surprise us, to behold the prodigious transformation 
which has taken place on every individual ; grieve us, 
to observe the dishonor done to our nature in general 
within these subterraneous lodgements! 

Here, the sweet and winning aspect, that wore per- 
petually an attractive smile, grins horribly a naked 



90 MEDITATIONS 

ghastly skull. The eye that outshone the diamond's 
brilliancy, and glanced its most lovely lightning into the 
most guarded heart : alas ! where is it ? Where shall 
we find the rolling sparkler ? How are all its sprightly 
beams eclipsed, totally eclipsed ! The tongue, that once 
commanded all the power of eloquence, in this strange 
land has " forgot its cunning." Where are now those 
strains of harmony, which ravished our ears ? Where 
is that flow of persuasion, which carried captive our 
judgments? The great master of language and of song 
is become silent as the night that surrounds him. The 
pampered flesh, so lately clothed in purple and fine 
linen, how is it covered rudely with clods of clay! 
There was a time, when the timorously nice creature 
would scarce " adventure to set a foot upon the ground 
for delicateness and tenderness,"* but is now enwrapped 
in clammy earth, and sleeps on no softer pillow than the 
ragged gravel-stones. Here, " the strong men bow 
themselves." The nervous arm is unstrung ; the 
brawny sinews are relaxed ; the limbs, not long ago the 
seats of vigor and activity, lie down motionless ; and 
the bones, which were as bars of iron, are crumbled 
into dust. 

Here, the man of business forgets all his favorite 
schemes, and discontinues the pursuit of gain. Here, 
is a total stand to the circulation of merchandise and 
the hurry of trade. In these solitary recesses, as in the , 
building of Solomons temple, is heard no sound of the 
hammer and axe. The winding-sheet and the coffin are 
the utmost bound of all earthly devices. " Hitherto 
may they go, but no farther." Here, the sons of plea- 
sure take a final farewell of their dear delights. No 
more is the sensualist anointed with oil, or crowned with 
rose buds. He chants no more to the melody of the 
viol, nor revels any longer at the banquet of wine. In- 
stead of sumptuous tables and delicious treats, the poor 
voluptuary is himself a feast for fattened insects ; the 
reptile riots in his flesh; "the worm feeds sweetly on 
• Deut. xxviii. 56. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. QJ 

him."* Here also, beauty fails ; bright beauty drops her 
lustre here. ! how her roses fade, and her lilies lan- 
guish, in this bleak soil ! How does the grand leveller 
pour contempt upon the charmer of our hearts ! How turn 
to deformity what captivated the world before ! 

Could the lover have a sight of his once enchanting 
lair one, what a startling astonishment would seize him ! 
U Is this the object I not long ago so passionately ad- 
mired ? I said, she was divinely fair ; and thought her 
somewhat more than mortal. Her form was symmetry 
itself; every elegance breathed in her air; and all the 
Graces waited on her motions. 'Twas music, when she 
spoke ; but, when she spoke encouragement, 'twas little 
less than rapture. How my heart danced to those charm- 
ing accents ! And can that which, some weeks ago, 
was to admiration lovely , be now so insufferably loath- 
some ? Where are those blushing cheeks ? where the 
coral lips ? where that ivory neck, on which the curling 
jet in such glossy ringlets flowed? with a thousand other 
beauties of person, and ten thousand delicacies of 
action?! Amazing alteration ! Delusory bliss ! Fondly 
I gazed upon the glittering meteor. It shone brightly ; 
and I mistook it for a star ; for a permanent and sub- 
stantial good. But how is it fallen ! fallen from an orb, 
not its own ! And all that I can trace on earth, is but a 
putrid mass." 

Lie, poor Florella ! lie deep, as thou dost, in obscure 
darkness. Let night, with her impenetrable shades, 
always conceal thee. May no prying eye be witness to 
thy disgrace : but let thy surviving sisters think upon thy 
state, when they contemplate the idol in the glass. When 
the pleasing image rises gracefully to view, surrounded 
with a world of charms, and flushed with joy at the con- 
sciousness of them all; then, in those minutes of terap- 

* Job, xxiv. 20. 

II Quo fugit Venus? heu / quove color? decern 
Quo motus ? Quid habet illius, illius, 
Quae spirobot amoves, 

Quae me surpuerat mihi? — Horace. 



QO MEDITATIONS 



tation and danger, when vanity uses to steal into the 
thoughts — then, let them remember what a veil of horror 
is drawn over a face, which was once beautiful and bril- 
liant as theirs. Such a seasonable reflection might regu- 
late the labors of the toilet, and create a more earnest 
solicitude to polish the jewel than to varnish the casket. 
It might then become their highest ambition to have the 
mind decked with divine virtue, and dressed after the 
amiable pattern of their Redeemer's holiness. 

And would this prejudice their persons, or depreciate 
their charms ? Quite the reverse. It would spread a 
sort of heavenly glory over the finest set of features, and 
heighten the loveliness of every other engaging accom- 
plishment. What is yet a more inviting consideration, 
these flowers would not wither with nature, nor be tar- 
nished by time ; but would open continually into richer 
beauties, and flourish even in the winter of age. But 
the most incomparable recommendation of these noble 
qualities is, that from their hallowed relics, as from the 
fragrant ashes of the phoenix, will ere long arise an illus- 
trious form, bright as the wings of angels, lasting as the 
light of the new Jerusalem. 

For my part the remembrance of this sad revolution 
shall make me ashamed to pay my devotion to a shrine 
of perishing flesh, and afraid to expect all my happiness 
from so brittle a joy. It shall teach me not to think too 
highly of well-proportioned clay, though formed in the 
most elegant mould, and animated with the sweetest 
soul. 'Tis Heaven's last, best, and crowning gift, to be 
received with gratitude, and cherished with love, as a 
most valuable blessing ; not worshipped with the incense 
of flattery and strains of fulsome adoration, as a goddess. 
It will cure, I trust, the dotage of my eyes ; and incline 
me always to prefer the substantial " ornaments of a 
meek and virtuous spirit," before the transient decora- 
tions of white and red on the skin. 

Here I called in my roving meditations from their 
long excursion on this tender subject. Fancy listened 
a while to the soliloquy of a lover. Now judgment re- 



AMONG THE TOMBS 93 

sumes the reins, and guides my thoughts to more near 
and self-interesting inquiries. However, upon a review 
of the whole scene, crowded with spectacles of mortality 
and trophies of death, I could not forbear smiting my 
breast, and fetching a sigh, and lamenting over the 
noblest of all visible beings*, laid prostrate under the feet 
of " the pale horse and his rider."* I could not for- 
bear repeating that pathetic exclamation, " Oh! thou 
Adam, what hast thou doneV*\ What desolation has 
thy disobedience wrought in the earth ! See the malig- 
nity, the ruinous malignity, of sin ! Sin has demolished 
so many stately structures of flesh : sin has made such 
havoc among the most excellent ranks of God's low T er 
creation : and sin (that deadly bane of our nature) would 
have plunged our better part into the execrable horrors 
of the nethermost hell, had not our merciful Mediator 
interposed, and given himself for our ransom. There- 
fore what grateful acknowledgments does the whole 
world of penitent sinners owe ; what ardent returns of 
love will a whole heaven of glorified believers pay, to 
such a friend, benefactor, and deliverer ! 

Musing upon these melancholy objects, a faithful re- 
membrancer suggests from within — " Must this sad 
change succeed in me also ? Am I to draw my last 
gasp ; to become a breathless corpse ; and be what I 
deplore J 7\ Is there a time approaching, when this body 
shall be carried out upon the bier, and consigned to its 
clay-cold bed ? while some kind acquaintance, perhaps, 
may drop one parting tear, and cry, Alas, my brother!" 
Is the time approaching ? Nothing is more certain ; a 
decree, much surer than the law of the Medes and Per- 
sians, has irrevocably determined the doom. 

Should one of these ghastly figures burst from his con- 

* Rev. vi. 8. f 2 Esdr. vii. 41. 

i I pass, with melancholy state, 

By all these solemn heaps of fate ; 

And think, as soft and sad I tread 

Above the venerable dead, 

" Time was, like me, they life possessed ; 

And time will be, when I shall rest." — Parxeli 



94 MEDITATIONS 



finement, and start up in frightful deformity before me — 
should the haggard skeleton lift a clattering hand, and 
point it full in my view — should it open the stiffened 
jaws, and with a hoarse tremendous murmur break this 
profound silence — should it accost me, as SamueVs appa- 
rition addressed the trembling king, " The Lord shall 
deliver thee also into the hands of death ; yet a little while, 
and thou shalt be with me,"* — the solemn warning, deliv- 
ered in so striking a manner, must strongly impress my 
imagination. A message in thunder would scarce sink 
deeper. Yet, there is abundantly greater reason to be 
alarmed by that express declaration of the Lord God 
Almighty, " Thou shalt surely die." Well then, since 
sentence is passed, since I am a condemned man, and 
know not when the death warrant may arrive ; let me 
die to sin, and die to the world, before I die beneath the 
stroke of a righteous God. Let me employ the little 
uncertain interval of respite from execution, in preparing 
for a happier state and a better life : that when the fatal 
moment comes, and I am commanded to shut my eyes 
upon all things here below, I may open them again to 
see my Saviour in the mansions above. 

Since this body, which is so fearfully and wonderfully 
made, must fall to pieces in the grave ; since I must soon 
resign all my bodily powers to darkness, inactivity, and 
corruption, let it be my constant care to use them well 
while I possess them ! Let my hands be stretched forth 
to relieve the needy, and always be more " ready to give 
than to receive." Let my knees bend in deepest humili- 
ation before the throne of grace, while my eyes are cast 

* 1 Sam. xxviii. 19. — On this place, the Dutch translator of the 
Meditations has added a note, to correct, very probably, what he sup- 
poses a mistake. On the same supposition, I presume, the compi- 
lers of our rubric ordered the last verse of Eccl. xlvi., to be omitted 
in *he daily service of the church. But that the sentiment hinted 
above is strictly true; that it was sun btflOT Samuel himself (not an 
infernal spirit, personating the prophet,) who appeared to the female 
necromancer at Endor, appeared, not in compliance with any dia- 
bolical incantation, but in pursuance of the divine commission , this, 
I think, is fully proved in the historical account of the life of David. — 
Vol. i. chap, xxiii. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 95 



down to the earth in penitential confusion, or devoutly 
looking up to heaven for pardoning mercy ! In every 
friendly interview, let the " law of kindness dwell on 
my lips ;" or rather, if the seriousness of my acquaint- 
ance permits, let the Gospel of peace flow from my 
tongue. ! that I might be enabled, in every public 
concourse, to lift up my voice like a trumpet, and pour 
abroad a more joyful sound than its most melodious ac- 
cents, in proclaiming the glad tidings of free salvation ! 
Be shut, my ears, resolutely shut, against the malevolent 
whispers of slander, and the contagious breath of filthy 
talking. But be swift to hear the instructions of wis- 
dom ; be all attention when your Redeemer speaks; 
imbibe the precious truths ; and convey them carefully 
to the heart. Carry me, my feet, to the temple of the 
Lord, to the beds of the sick, and houses of the poor. 
May all my members, devoted entirely to my divine 
Master, be the willing instruments of promoting his 
glory ! 

Then, ye emb aimers, ye may spare your pains. These 
w T orks of faith and labors of love, these shall be my 
spices and perfumes. Enwrapped in these, I would lay 
me gently down, and sleep sweetly in the blessed Jesus ; 
hoping that God " will give commandment concerning 
my bones," and one day fetch them up from the dust, 
as silver from the furnace, purified, " I say not seven 
times, but seventy times seven." 

Here my contemplation took wing, and in an instant 
alighted in the garden adjoining to Mount Calvary. 
Having viewed the abode of my deceased fellow-crea- 
tures, methought I longed to see the place where our 
Lord lay. And, ! what a marvellous spectacle was 
once exhibited in this memorable sepulchre ! He, " who 
clothes himself with light as with a garment, and walks 
upon the wings of the wind ;"* He was pleased to 

* The Scriptures, speaking of the Supreme Being, say : He 
walketh upon the waves of the sea; to denote his uncontrollable 
power. — Job, ix. 8. He walketh in the circuit of heaven ,- to express 
the immensity of his presence. — Job, xxii. 14. He walketh upon th* 



96 MEDITATIONS 



wear the habiliments of mortality, and dwell among the 
prostrate dead. Who can repeat the wondrous truth too 
often ? Who can dwell upon the transporting theme too 
long? He, who sits enthroned in glory, and diffuses 
bliss among all the heavenly hosts ; He was once a pale 
and bloody corpse, and pressed this little spot. 

O death ! how great was thy triumph in that hour ! 
Never did thy gloomy realms contain such a prisoner 
before. Prisoner, did I say ? No ; He was more than 
conqueror. He arose, far more mightily than Sampson, 
from a transient slumber ; broke down the gates, and 
demolished the strongholds of those dark domains. 
And this, mortals, this is your only consolation and 
security. Jesus trod the dreadful path, and smoothed it 
for your passage. Jesus, sleeping in the chambers of 
the tomb, has brightened the dismal mansion, and left 
an inviting odor in those beds of dust. The dying Jesus ! 
(never let the comfortable truth depart from your minds ! 
the dying Jesus) is your sure protection^ your unquestion- 
able passport, through the territories of the grave. Be- 
lieve in Him, and they shall prove " a highway to Sion;" 
shall transmit you safe to Paradise. Believe in Him, and 
you shall be no losers, but unspeakable gainers, by youi 
dissolution. For hear what the oracle of heaven says 
upon this important point : Whoso believeth in Me, shah 

wings of the wind; to signify the amazing swiftness of his opera- 
tions. — Psal. civ. 3 ; in which last phrase there is, I think, an ele 
gance and emphasis, not taken notice of by our commentators, yei 
unequalled in any writer. — Not, He flieth ; He runneth ,• but, He 
walketh ,- and that, on the very wings of the wind ; on the most im- 
petuous of elements, roused into its utmost rage, and sweeping along 
with inconceivable rapidity. A tumult in nature, not to be described, 
is the composed and sedate work of the Deity. A speed, not to be 
measured, is (with reverence I use the expression, and to comport 
with our low methods of conception) the solemn and majestic foot-pace 
of Jehovah. How flat are the following lines, even in the grea^ 
master of lyric song : 

Ocyor cervis, et agente nimbos 
Ocyor Euro, 
when compared with this inimitable stroke of divine poetry: — H* 
walketh upon the wings of the wind.' 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 97 

never die* What sublime and emphatical language is 
this ! This much, at least, it must import — The nature 
of that last change shall " be surprisingly altered for the 
better ; it shall no longer be inflicted as a punishment, 
but rather be vouchsafed as a blessing. To such persons 
it shall come attended with such a train of benefits, as 
will render it a kind of happy impropriety to call it dying. 
Dying ! No ; 'tis then they truly begin to live. Their 
exit is the end of their frailty and their entrance upon 
perfection. Their last groan is the prelude to life and 
immortality." 

O ye timorous souls, that are terrified at the sound 
of the passing-bell, that turn pale at the sight of an 
opened grave, and can scarce behold a coffin or a skull 
without a shuddering horror ; ye that are in bondage to 
the grisly tyrant, and tremble at the shaking of his iron 
rod ; cry mightily to the Father of your spirits, for faith 
in his dear Son. Faith will free you from slavery. f 
Faith will embolden you to tread on (this fiercest of) 
serpents. f Old Simeon, clasping the child Jesus in the 
arms of his flesh, and the glorious Mediator in the arms 
of his faith, departs with tranquillity and peace. That 
bitter persecutor, Saul, having won Christ, being found 

* John, xi. 26. 

•j- Death's terror is the mountain faith removes ; 
'Tis faith disarms destruction. — 
Believe, and look with triumph on the tomb. 
These, and some other quotations, I am proud to borrow from the 
Night Thoughts, especially from Night the Fourth ,• in which, energy 
of language, sublimity of sentiment, and the most exquisite beauties 
of poetry, are the least perfections to be admired. Almost every line 
glows with devotion, rises into the most exalted apprehensions of 
the adorable Redeemer, and is animated with the most lively faith in 
his all-sufficient mediation. The author of this excellent perform- 
ance has the peculiar felicity of ennobling all the strength of style, 
and every delicacy of imagination, with the grand and distinguish- 
ing truths of Christianity. These thoughts give the highest enter- 
tainment to the fancy, and impart the noblest improvement to the 
mind. They not only refine our taste, but prepare us for death, and 
ripen us for glory, I never take up this admirable piece, but I am 
ready to cry out — Tecum vivere amem,tecum obeam libens , i. e. "In- 
spire me with such a spirit, and life shall be delightful, nor death 
itself unwelcome." * Luke, x. 19. 



98 MEDITATIONS 



in Christ, longs to be dismissed from cumbrous clay, and 
kindles into rapture at the prospect of dissolution.* Me- 
thinks I see another of Immanuel's followers, trusting in 
his Saviour, leaning on his Beloved, go down to the 
silent shades with composure and alacrity, f In this 
powerful name an innumerable company of sinful crea- 
tures have set up their banners, and " overcome, through 
the blood of the Lamb." Authorised by the Captain 
of thy salvation, thou also mayest set thy feet upon the 
neck of this king of terrors. Furnished with this anti- 
dote, thou also mayest play around the hole of the asp, 
and put thy undaunted hand on this cockatrice-den. j 
Thou mayest feel the viper§ fastening to thy mortal part, 
and fear no evil : thou shalt one day shake it off by a 
joyful resurrection, and suffer no harm. 

Resurrection. That cheering word eases my mind of 
an anxious thought, and solves a most momentous ques- 
tion. I was going to ask, " wherefore do all these 
corpses lie here, in this abject condition ? Is this their 
final state ? Has death conquered, and will the tyrant 
hold captivity captive ? How long wilt thou forget 
them, Lord? forever? 55 No, saith the voice from 
heaven, the word of divine revelation ; the righteous 
are all prisoners of hope.\\ There is an hour, (an awful 
secret that, and known only to all-foreseeing Wisdom,) 
an appointed hour there is, when an act of grace will 
pass the great seal above, and give them an universal 
discharge, a general delivery from the abodes of corrup- 
tion. Then shall the Lord Jesus descend from heaven, 
with the shout of the archangel and the trump of God. 
Destruction itself shall hear his call, and the obedient 
grave give up her dead. In a moment, in the twinkling 
of an eye, they shake off the sleep of ten thousand 
years, and spring forth, like the bounding roe, to " meet 
their Lord in the air. 55 

And, ! with w T hat cordial congratulations, what 
transporting endearments, do the soul and body, those 

* Phil. i. 33. 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8. f 2 Pet L 14 » 

\ Isa. xi. 8. § Acts, xxviii. 35. | Zech. ; x. 12. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 99 

affectionate companions, reunite ! But with how much 
greater demonstrations of kindness are they both received 
by their compassionate Redeemer ! The Ancient of 
days, who comes in the clouds of heaven, is their friend, 
their father, their bridegroom. He comes with irresist- 
ible power and infinite glory, but they have nothing to 
fear from his majestic appearance. Those tremendous 
solemnities, which spread desolation and astonishment 
through the universe, serve only to inflame their love, 
and heighten their hopes. The Judge, the awful Judge, 
amidst all his magnificence and splendor, vouchsafes to 
confess their names, vouchsafes to commemorate their 
fidelity, before all the . inhabitants of the skies, and the 
whole assembled world. 

Hark! the thunders are hushed. See! the lightnings 
cease their rage. The angelic armies stand in silent 
suspense. The whole race of Adam is wrapped in pleas- 
ing or anxious expectation. And now that adorable 
Perstm, whose favor is better than life, whose accept- 
ance is a crown of glory, lifts up the light of his coun- 
tenance upon the righteous ; he speaks, and what ravish- 
ing words proceed from his gracious lips! what ecstasies 
of delight they enkindle in the breasts of the faithful ! 
" I accept you, my people ! Ye are they that believed 
in my name. Ye are they that renounced yourselves, and 
are complete in me. I see no spot or blemish in you, for 
ye are washed in my blood, and clothed with my right- 
eousness. Renewed by my Spirit, ye have glorified me 
on earth, and have been faithful unto death. Come, 
then, ye servants of holiness, enter into the joy of your 
Lord. Come, ye children of light, ye blessed of my 
Father, receive the Itingdom that shall never be removed, 
wear the crown which fadeth not away, and enjoy plea- 
sures for evermore !" 

Then it will be one of the smallest privileges of the 
righteous, that they shall languish no more ; that sick- 
ness will never again show her pale countenance in their 
dwellings.* Death itself will be " swallowed up in vic- 

* Isaiah, speaking of the new Jerusalem, mentions this as one of 



100 MEDITATIONS 



tory." That fatal javelin, which has drank the blood 
of monarchs, and finds its way to the hearts of all the 
sons of Adam, shall be utterly broken. That enormous 
scythe, which has struck empires from their root, and 
s\Tept ages and generations into oblivion, shall lie by in 
perpetual uselessriess. Sin also, which filled thy quiver, 
thou insatiate archer ! — sin, which strung thy arm with 
resistless vigor ; which pointed all thy shafts with inevi- 
table destruction — sin will then be done away. What- 
ever is frail or depraved will be thrown off with our 
grave-clothes. All to come is perfect holiness, and con- 
summate happiness, the term of whose continuance is 
eternity. 

eternity ! eternity ! how are our boldest, our strong- 
est thoughts, lost and overwhelmed in thee ! Who can 
set landmarks to limit thy dimensions, or find plummets 
to fathom thy depths? Arithmeticians have figures to 
compute all the progressions of time ; astronomers have 
instruments to calculate the distances of the planets ; but 
what numbers can state, what lines can gauge, the lengths 
and breadths of eternity ? "It is higher than heaven, 
what canst thou do ? deeper than hell, what canst thou 
know ? the measure thereof is longer than the earth, 
broader than the sea."* 

.Mysterious, mighty existence! a sum not to be les- 
sened by the largest deductions ! an extent not to be con- 
tracted by all possible diminutions ! None can truly say, 
after the most prodigious waste of ages, " So much of 
eternity is gone ;" for when millions of centuries are 
elapsed, it is but just commencing ; and, when millions 
more have run their ample round, it will be no nearer 
ending. Yea, when ages, numerous as the bloom of 
spring, increased by the herbage of summer, both aug- 
mented by the leaves of autumn, and all multiplied by 

its immunities : The inhabitants thereof shalt no more say, I am sick. 
Another clause in its royal charter runs thus : God shall ivipe away 
all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow 
nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain, — Isa. xxxiii. 24, Rev 
xxi. 4. 

* Job, ad. 8, 9. 



AMONG THE TOMBS. JQ1 

the drops of rain which drown the winter — when these, 
and ten thousand times ten thousand more — more than 
can be represented by any similitude, or imagined by 
any conception — when all these are revolved and fin- 
ished, eternity, vast, boundless, amazing eternity, will 
only be beginning ! 

What a pleasing, yet awful thought is this ! full of 
delight, and full of dread. ! may it alarm our fears, 
quicken our hopes, and animate all our endeavors ! Since 
we are so soon to launch into this endless and incon- 
ceivable state, let us give all diligence to secure our 
entrance into bliss. Now, let us give all diligence, be- 
cause there is no alteration in the scenes of futurity. 
The wheel never turns : all is steadfast and immoveable 
beyond the grave. Whether w T e are then seated on the 
throne, or stretched on the rack ; a seal will be set to 
our condition by the hand of everlasting mercy or inflex- 
ible justice. The saints always rejoice amidst the smiles 
of Heaven ; their harps are perpetually tuned ; their tri- 
umphs admit of no interruption. The ruin of the wicked 
is irremediable. The fatal sentence, once passed, is 
never to be repealed. No hope of exchanging their 
doleful habitations ; but all things bear the same dismal 
aspect for ever and ever. 

The wicked ! my mind recoils* at the apprehension 
of their misery. It has studiously waved the fearful sub- 
ject, and seems unwilling to pursue it, even now. But 
'tis better to reflect upon it for a few minutes, than to 
endure it to eternal ages. Perhaps the consideration of 
their aggravated misery may be profitably terrible ; may 
teach me more highly to prize the Saviour, who " deliv- 
ers from going down into the bottomless pit ;" may 
drive me, like the avenger's swx>rd, to this only city of 
refuge for obnoxious sinners. 

The wicked seem to lie here, like malefactors, in a 

deep and strong dungeon, reserved against the day of 

trial. " Their departure was without peace." Clouds 

of horror sat lowering upon their closing eye-lids, most 

* — Animus meminisse horret, luctuque refugiL — Vihg. 



102 MEDITATIONS 



sadly foreboding the "blackness of darkness for ever." 
When the last sickness seized their frame, and the inev- 
itable change advanced ; when they saw the fatal arrow 
fitting to the strings, saw the deadly archer aiming at 
their heart, and felt the envenomed shaft fastened in 
their vitals — good God ! w T hat fearfulness came upon 
them ? What horrible dread overwhelmed them ! How 
did they stand shuddering and aghast upon the tremen- 
dous precipice ! excessively afraid to plunge into the 
abyss of eternity, yet utterly unable to maintain their 
standing on the verge of life. 

! what pale reviews, what startling prospects con- 
spire to augment their sorrows ! They look backward, 
and behold ! a most melancholy scene ! sins unrepented 
of ; mercy slighted ; and the day of grace ending ! They 
look forward, and nothing presents itself but the right- 
eous Judge ; the dreadful tribunal ; and a most solemn 
reckoning. They roll around their affrighted eyes on 
attending friends. If accomplices in debauchery, it 
sharpens their anguish to consider this farther aggrava- 
tion of their guilt, that they have not sinned alone, but 
drawn others into the snare. If religious acquaintance, 
it strikes a fresh gash into their hearts, to think of never 
seeing them any more, but only at an unapproachable 
distance, separated by the unpassable gulf. 

At last, perhaps, they begin to pray. Finding no 
other possible way of relief, they are constrained to ap- 
ply unto the Almighty. With trembling lips and a fal- 
tering tongue they cry unto that sovereign Being, " who 
kills and makes alive." But why have they deferred, 
so long deferred, their addresses to God ? Why have 
they despised all his counsels, and stood incorrigible un- 
der his incessant reproofs ? How often have they been 
forewarned of these terrors, and most importunately en- 
treated to seek the Lord while he wight be found ? I wish 
they may obtain mercy at the eleventh, at the last hour. 
I wish they may be snatched from the jaws, the opened, 
the gaping, the almost closing jaws of damnation. But, 
alas ! who can tell whether affronted Majesty will lend 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 103 

an ear to their complaint ? whether the Holy One will 
work a miracle of grace in behalf of such transgressors ? 
He may, for aught any mortal knows, " laugh at their 
calamity, and mock when their fear cometh." 

Thus they lie, groaning out the poor remains of life ; 
their limbs bathed in sweat ; their heart struggling with 
convulsive throes ; pains insupportable throbbing in 
every pulse ; and innumerable darts of agony transfixing 
their conscience. 

In that dread moment, how the frantic soul 
Raves round the walls of her clay tenement ; 
Runs to each avenue ; and shrieks for help ; 
But shrieks in vain ! How wishfully she looks 
On all she's leaving, now no longer hers ! 
A little longer, yet a little longer, 
O ! might she stay, to wash away her crimes, 
And fit her for her passage ! Mournful sight ! 
Her very eyes weep blood ; and every groan 
She heaves, is big with horror ; but the foe, 
Like a staunch murderer, steady to his purpose, 
Pursues her close through every lane of life, 
Nor misses once the track; but presses on; 
Till, forced at last to the tremendous verge, 
At once she sinks. — * 

If this be the end of the ungodly, " my soul, come not 
thou into their secret ! unto their assembly, mine honor, 
be not thou united!" How awfully accomplished is 
that prediction of inspired wisdom ! Sin, though seem- 
ingly sweet in the commission, yet, at the last it biteth 
like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder. Fly, there- 
fore, from the tents, ! fly from the ways, of such wretch- 
ed men. 

Happy dissolution ! were this the period of their woes. 
But, alas ! all these tribulations are only the beginning of 
sorrows; a small drop only from that " cup of trem- 
bling," which is mingled for their future portion. No 
sooner has the last pang dislodged their reluctant souls, 
but they are hurried into the presence of an injured angry 
God : not under the conducting care of beneficent angels, 
i)ut exposed to the insults of accursed spirits, who lately 
* See a valuable poem, entitled The Grave. 



104 MEDITATIONS 



tempted them, now upbraid them, and will for ever tor* 
ment them. Who can imagine their confusion and dis- 
tress, when they stand guilty and inexcusable before 
their incensed Creator ? They are received with frowns. 
The God that made them has no " mercy on them. 55 * 
The Prince of Peace rejects them with abhorrence. He 
consigns them over to chains of darkness and receptacles 
of despair, against the severer doom and more public 
infamy of the great day. Then, all the vials of wrath 
will be emptied upon these wretched creatures. The 
law they have violated, and the gospel they have slight- 
ed ; the power they have defied, and the goodness they 
have abused ; will all get themselves honor in their ex- 
emplary destruction. Then God, the God to whom ven- 
geance belongeth, will draw the arrow to the very head, 
and set them as the mark of his inexorable displeasure. 

Resurrection will be no privilege to them ; but im- 
mortality itself their everlasting curse. Would they not 
bless the grave, " that land where all things are forgot- 
ten, 55 and wish to lie eternally hid in its deepest gloom? 
But the dust refuses to conceal their persons, or to draw 
a veil over their practices. They also must awake : 
must arise ; must appear at the bar, and meet the Judge ; 
a Judge, before whom " the pillars of heaven tremble, 
and the earth melts away ; 55 a Judge, once long-suffer- 
ing and compassionate, but now unalterably determined 
to teach stubborn offenders what it is to provoke the Om- 
nipotent Godhead ; what it is to trample upon the blood 
of his Son, and offer despite to all the gracious overtures 
of his Spirit. 

O ! the perplexity ! the distraction, that must seize 
the impenitent rebels when they are summoned to the 
great tribunal ! What will they do in this day of severe 
visitation, this day of final decision ? Where ? how ? 
whence can they find help ? To which of the saints 
will they turn ? Whither betake themselves for shelter 
or for succor? Alas! 'tis all in vain! 'tis all too late. 
Friends and acquaintance know them no more ; men 
* Isaiah, xxvii. 11. 



AMONG THE TOMBS 1Q5 



and angels abandon them to their approaching doom ; 
even the Mediator, the Mediator himself, deserts them 
in this dreadful hour. To Jly, will be impracticable : to 
justify themselves, still more impossible : and now, to 
make any supplications, utterly unavailable. 

Behold ! the books are opened ; the secrets of all 
hearts are disclosed ; the hidden things of darkness are 
brought to light. How empty, how ineffectual now, are 
all those refined artifices, with which hypocrites imposed 
upon their fellow-creatures, and preserved a character 
in the sight of men ! The jealous God who has been 
about their path, and about their bed, and espied out all 
their ways, sets before them the things that they have 
done. They cannot answer him one in a thousand, 
nor stand in the awful judgment. The heavens reveal 
their iniquities, and the earth rises up against them* They 
are speechless with guilt, and stigmatized with infamy 
before all the armies of the sky and all the nations of 
the redeemed. What a favor would they esteem it, to 
hide their ashamed heads in the bottom of the ocean, or 
even to be buried beneath the ruins of the tottering 
world ! 

If the contempt poured upon them be thus insupport- 
able how will their hearts endure, when the sword of 
infinite indignation is unsheathed, and fiercely waved 
around their defenceless heads, or pointed directly at 
their naked breasts! How must the wretches scream 
with wild amazement, and rend the very heavens with 
their cries, when the right-aiming thunderbolts go abroad ! 
— go abroad with a dreadful commission to drive them 
from the kingdoms of glory, and plunge them, not into 
the sorrows of a moment, or the tortures of an hour, but 
into all the restless agonies of unquenchable fire and 
everlasting despair, f 

* Job, xx. 27. 

\ Regions, of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace 

And rest can never dwell : hope never comes 

That comes to all ; but torture without end 

Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed 

With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed, Milton, 



IQQ MEDITATIONS 



Misery of miseries! too shocking for reflection to 
dwell upon. But if so dismal to foresee, and that at a 
distance, together with some comfortable expectation of 
escaping it, O ! how bitter, inconceivably bitter, to bear, 
without any intermission, or any mitigation, through 
hopeless and eternal ages ! 

Who has any bowels of pity ? Who has any senti- 
ments of compassion ? Who has any tender concern 
for his fellow-creatures ? Who ? — in God's name and 
for Christ's sake, let him show it, by warning every 
man, and beseeching every man, to seek the Lord while 
he may be found, to throw down the arms of rebellion 
before the act of indemnity expires, submissively to 
adore the Lamb, while he holds out the golden sceptre. 
Here, let us act the friendly part to mankind ; here, let 
the whole force of our benevolence exert itself in exhort- 
ing relations, acquaintance, neighbors, whomsoever we 
may probably influence, to take the wings of faith un- 
feigned, of repentance undelayed, and flee away from 
this wrath to come. 

Upon the whole, what stupendous discoveries are 
these! Lay them up in a faithful remembrance, my 
soul ; recollect them with the most serious attention, 
when thou liest down, and when thou risest up ; when 
thou walkest, receive them for thy companions ; when 
thou talkest, listen to them as thy prompters ; and what- 
ever thou doest, consult them as thy directors. In- 
fluenced by these considerations, thy views will greaten, 
thy affections be exalted, and thou thyself raised above 
the tantalising power of perishing things. Duly mind- 
ful of these, it will be the sum of thy desires and the 
scope of thy endeavors, to gain the approbation of that 
Sovereign Being who will then fill the throne and pro- 
nounce the decisive sentence; thou wilt see nothing 
worth a wish,* in comparison of having his will for thy 

* Great day of dread, decision, and despair ! 
At thought of thee, each sublunary wish 
Lets go its eager grasp, and quits the world. 

Night Thoughts, 



AMONG THE TOMBS. 107 

rule, his glory for thy aim, and his Holy Spirit for thy 
ever actuating principle. 

Wonder, man ; be lost in admiration at those pro- 
digious events which are coming upon the universe ; 
events, the greatness of which nothing £nite can mea- 
sure ; such as will cause whatever is considerable or 
momentous in the annals of all generations to sink into 
littleness and nothing; events (Jesus, prepare us for 
their approach, defend us when they take place !) big 
with the everlasting fates of all the living and the dead. 
I must see the graves cleaving, the sea teeming and 
swarms unsuspected, crowds unnumbered, yea multi- 
tudes of thronging nations, rising from both : I must see 
the world in flames, must stand at the dissolution of all 
terrestrial things, and be an attendant on the burial of 
nature : I must see the vast expanse of tLe sky wrapt 
up like a scroll, and the incarnate God issuing forth from 
light inaccessible, with ten thousand times ten thousand 
angels, to judge both men and devils : I must see the 
curtain of time drop, see all eternity disclosed to view, 
ana enter upon a state of being that will never, never 
have an end. 

And ought I not (let the vainest imagination deter- 
mine, ought I not) to try the sincerity of my faith, and 
take heed to my ways ? Is there an inquiry, is there a 
care, of greater, of equal, of comparable importance ? 
Is not this an infinitely pressing call, to see that my loins 
are girded about, my lamp trimmed, and myself dressed 
for the bridegroom's appearance ? that, washed in the 
fountain opened in my Saviour's side, and clad with the 
marriage-garment wove by his obedience, I may be 
found in peace, unblamable, and unreprovable. Other- 
wise, how shall I stand with boldness when the stars of 
heaven fall from their orbs ? How shall I come forth 
erect and courageous, when the earth itself reels to and 
fro like a drunkard?* How shall I look up. with joy, 
and see my salvation drawing nigh, when the hearts of 
millions and millions fail for fear ? 

* Isa. xxiv. 20. 



108 MEDITATIONS, &c. 



Now, madam, lest my meditations set in a cloud, and 
leave any unpleasing gloom upon your mind, let me 
once more turn to the brightening prospects of the right- 
eous. A view of them and their delightful expectations 
may serve to exhilarate the thoughts, which have been 
musing upon melancholy subjects, and hovering about 
the edges of infernal darkness ; just as a spacious field, 
arrayed in cheerful green, relieves and reinvigorates the 
eye which has fatigued itself by poring upon some 
minute, or gazing upon some glaring object. 

The righteous seem to lie by, in the bosom of the 
earth, as a weary pilot in some well-sheltered creek, till 
all the storms which infest this lower world are blown 
over : here they enjoy safe anchorage, are in no danger 
of foundering amidst the waves of prevailing iniquity, 
or of being shipwrecked on the rocks of any powerful 
temptation. But ere long we shall behold them hoisting 
their flag of hope, riding before a sweet gale of atoning 
merit and redeeming love ; till they make, with all the 
sails of an assured faith, the blessed port of eternal life. 

Then, may the honored friend to whom I am w T riting, 
rich in good works, rich in heavenly temper, but inex- 
pressibly richer in her Saviour's righteousness, ! may 
she enter the harbor, like a gallant stately vessel, returned 
successful and victorious from some grand expedition, 
with acclamations, honor, and joy ! while my little bark, 
attendant on the solemnity, and a partaker of the triumph, 
glides humbly after, and both rest together in the haven, 
the wished-for, blissful haven, of perfect security and 
everlasting repose. 



REFLECTIONS 



ON 



A FLOWER GARDEN. 



I look upon the pleasure, which we take in a Garden, as one of 
the most innocent delights in human life. A Garden was the habita- 
tion of our first parents before the fall. It is naturally apt to fill the 
mind with calmness and tranquillity, and to lay all its turbulent pas- 
sions at rest. It gives us a great insight into the contrivance and 
wisdom of Providence, and suggests innumerable objects for medita- 
tion. — Spect. Vol. vii. No. 477. 




REFLECTIONS 



A FLOWER GARDEN. 



IN A LETTER TO A LADY. 




MADAM, 
OME time ago, my meditations took 
a turn among the tombs : they vis- 
ited the awful and melancholy 
mansions of the dead ;* and you 
were pleased to favor them with 
your attention. May I now beg 
the honor of your company in a 
more inviting and delightful ex- 



* " Discourses on the vanity of the creature, which 
represent the barrenness of every thing in this world, 
and its incapacity of producing any solid or substantial 
happiness, are useful. Those speculations also, which 
show the bright side of things, and lay forth those inno- 
cent entertainments which are to be met with among the 
several objects that encompass us, are no less benefi- 
cial." — Sped. vol. v. No. 393. Upon the plan of these ob- 
servations the preceding and following reflections are formed. 



112 - REFLECTIONS 



cursion ! — in a beautiful flower-garden, where I lately 
walked, and at once regaled the sense and indulged the 
fancy. 

It was early in a summer morning , when the air was 
cool, the earth moist, the whole face of the creation fresh 
and gay. The noisy world was scarce awake : business 
had not quite shook off his sound sleep, and not had but 
just reclined his giddy head. All was serene, all was 
still ; every thing tended to inspire tranquillity of mind, 
and invite to serious thought. 

Only the wakeful lark had left her nest, and was 
mounting on high to salute the opening day. Elevated 
in air, she seemed to call the laborious husbandman to 
his toil, and all her fellow-songsters to their notes. Ear- 
liest of birds, said I, companion of the dawn, may I 
always rise at thy voice ; rise to offer the matin-song, 
and adore that beneficent Being, " who maketh the out- 
goings of the morning and evening to rejoice." 

How charming to rove abroad at this sweet hour of 
prime, to enjoy the calm of nature, to tread the dewy 
lawns, and taste the unrifled freshness of the air ! 

Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, 
With charm of earliest birds. 

What a pleasure do the sons of sloth lose ! Little, ah . 
little is the sluggard sensible how delicious an entertain- 
ment he foregoes, for the poorest of all animal gratifica- 
tions.* 

The grayness of the dawn decays gradually. Abun- 

* See, how revelation and reason, the Scriptures and the classics, 
unanimously exhort to this most beneficial practice. They both in- 
vite us to early rising by the most engaging motives and the most 
alluring representations. 

Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; let us lodge in the 
villages. Let us get up early to the vineyards ; let us see if the vine 
flourish, whether the tender grape appear, and the pomegranates oud 
forth. — Cant. vii. 11, 12. 

Jjuciferi primo cum sidere, frigida rura 

Carpamus : dum mane novum, dum gramina canent, 

Et ros in tenerd peeori gratissimus herba est. 

Vibgil Georg. iii. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. H3 

dance of ruddy streaks tinge the fleeces of the firmament, 
till at length the dappled aspect of the east is lost in one 
ardent and boundless blush. Is it the surmi&e of imagi- 
nation, or do the skies really redden with shame, to see 
so many supinely stretched on their drowsy pillows? 
Shall man be lost in luxurious ease ? Shall man waste 
these precious hours in idle slumbers, while the vigorous 
sun is up, and going on his Maker's errand ? while all 
the feathered choir are hymning the Creator, and paying 
their homage in harmony ? No ; let him heighten the 
melody of the tuneful tribes by adding the rational strains 
of devotion ; let him improve the fragrant oblations of 
nature by mingling with the rising odors the more 
refined breath of praise. 

'Tis natural for man to look upwards, to throw his first 
glance upon the objects that are above him. 

Straight towards heaven my wondering eyes I turn'd, 
And gazed a while the ample sky. 

Prodigious theatre ! where lightnings dart their fire, 
and thunders utter their voice ; where tempests spend 
their rage, and worlds unnumbered roll at large ! O the 
greatness of that mighty hand, which meteth out this 
amazing circumference with a span ! the immensity 
of that wonderful Being, before whom this unmeasurable 
extent is no more than a point ! And (thou pleasing 
thought !) the unsearchable riches of that mercy , which 
is greater than the heavens !* is more enlarged and exten- 
sive in its gracious exercise, than these illimitable tracts 
of air, and sea, and firmament! which pardons crimes 
of the most enormous size and the most horrid aggrava- 
tions ; pardons them in consideration of the Redeemer's 
atonement, with perfect freeness and the utmost readi- 
ness ! more readily, if it were possible, than this all-sur- 
rounding expanse admits within its circuit a ridge of 
mountains, or even a grain of sand. 

Come hither, then, ye awakened, trembling sinners ; 
come,f weary and heavy laden with a sense of your 

* Psal. cviii. 4. 

f The lines wmch follow are admirably descriptive of the spirit 

10* 



]J4 REFLECTIONS 



iniquities ; condemn yourselves ; renounce all reliance 
on any thing of your own ; let your trust be in the tender 
mercy of God forever and ever. 

In them hath he set a tabernacle for the sun.\ Behold 
him coming forth from the chambers of the east ; see 
the clouds, like floating curtains, are thrown back at his 
approach. With what refulgent majesty does he walk 
abroad ! how transcendently bright is his countenance, 
shedding day and inexhaustible light through the uni- 
verse ! Is there a scene, though finished by the most 
elaborate and costly refinements of art, u comparable to 
these illustrious solemnities of opening sunshine ? Be- 
fore these all the studied pageantry of the theatre, the 
glittering economy of an assembly, or even the height- 
ened ornaments of a royal palace, hide their diminished 
head, and shrink into nothing." I have read of a person 
so struck with the splendors of this noble luminary, that 
he imagined himself made on purpose to contemplate its 
glories. ! that Christians would adopt his persuasion, 
and transfer it to the Sun of Righteousness! Thus ap- 
plied, it would cease to be a chimerical notion, and 
become a most important truth. For sure I am, it is the 

and practice hinted above : in them desire pants, prayer wrestles, and 
faith as it were grasps the prize. I take leave to transplant them 
into this place ; and I could wish them a better, a more conspicuous 
situation, than either their new or their native soil. Their native soil 
is no other than ' The Lamentations of a Sinner? written by Mr. Stern- 
hold. Notwithstanding the unpromising genius of the performance, 
I think we may challenge the greatest masters to produce any thing 
more spirited and importunate, more full of nature, or more flushed 
with life. 

Mercy, good Lord, mercy I crave ; 
This is the total sum ; 

For mercy, Lord, is all my suit ; 
Lord, let thy mercy come. 

The short sentences, not a single copulative ; the frequent repeti- 
tion of the divine name ; the almost incessant reiteration of the 
blessing so passionately desired, and inexpressibly needed ; — this is 
the genuine language of ardor; these are beauties obvious to every 
eye, and cannot fail, either to please the judicious taste, or to edifjr 
the gracious heart. 

* Psal. xix. 4. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. X15 

supreme happiness of the eternal state, and therefore 
may well be the ruling concern of this present life, to 
faiow the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom he hath 
sent. Nor do I stand alone in this opinion. The very 
best judge of whatever is valuable in science, or per- 
fective of our nature ; a judge who formed his taste on 
the maxims of paradise, and received the finishings of 
his education in the third heavens; this judge deter- 
mines to know nothing but Jesus Christ, and him crucified. 
He possessed in his own person the finest, the most ad- 
mired accomplishments , yet pronounces them no better 
than dung, in comparison of the supereminent excellency 
of this saving knowledge.* 

Methinks, I discern a thousand admirable properties 
in the sun. 'Tis certainly the best material emblem of 
the Creator. There is more of God in its lustre, energy, 
and usefulness, than in any other visible being. To wor- 
ship it as a deity was the least inexcusable of all the 
heathen idolatries. One scarce can w r onder that fallen 
reason should mistake so fair a copy for the adorable 
Original. No comparison in the whole book of sacred 
wisdom pleases me more, than that which resembles the . 
blessed Jesus to yonder regent of the day,f who now 
advances on his azure road to scatter light and dispense 
gladness through the nations. 

What were all the realms of the world, but a dungeon 
of darkness, without the beams of the sun ? all their fine 
scenes hid from our view, lost in obscurity. In vain we 
roll around our eyes in the midnight gloom : in vain we 
strive to behold the features of amiable nature. Turn 
whither we will, no form or comeliness appears ; all 
seems a dreary w T aste, an undistinguished chaos, till the 
returning hours have unbarred the gates of light, and let 
101 th the morn. Then, what a prospect opens ! The 
heavens are paved with azure, and strewed with roses. 
A variety of the liveliest verdures array the plains. The 

* To vnrspexov rrig yvaxrecog. — Phil. iii. 8. 

-f- Unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of Righteousness 
arise with healing in his wings. — Md. iv. 2. 



HQ REFLECTIONS 



flowers put on a glow of the richest colors. The whole 
creation stands forth, dressed in all the charms of beauty. 
The ravished eye looks round and wonders. 

And what had been the condition of our intellectual 
nature without the great Redeemer, and his divine reve- 
lation ? Alas ! what absurd and unworthy apprehen- 
sions did the Pagan sages form of God ! What idle 
dreams, what childish conjectures, were their doctrines 
of a future state ! How did the bulk even of that favored 
nation, the Jews, weary themselves in every vanity to 
obtain peace and reconciliation with their offended Je- 
hovah ! till Jesus arose upon our benighted minds, and 
brought life and immortality to light ; till he arose to en- 
lighten the wretched Gentiles, and to be the glory of his 
people Israel. 

Now we no longer cry out with a restless impatience, 
Where is God my Maker ? for we are allowed to contem- 
plate the brightness of his glory, and the express image 
of his person, in the face of Jesus Christ. Now we no 
longer inquire, with an unsatisfied solicitude, " Which 
is the way to bliss?" because Jesus has marked the path 
by his shining example, and left us an unerring clew in 
his holy word. Now, we have no more reason to pro- 
ceed with misgiving hearts in our journey to eternity, or 
to ask anxiously as we go, " Who will roll away the 
stone and open the everlasting doors? Who will remove 
the flaming sword, and give us admission into the de- 
lights of Paradise?" for it is done, all done, by the Cap- 
tain of our salvation. Sin he has expiated by the un- 
blemished sacrifice of himself: the law he has fulfilled 
by his perfect obedience : the sinner he transforms by 
his sanctifying Spirit : in a word, he hath both presented 
us with a -clear discovery of good things to come, and 
administered to us an abundant entrance into the final 
enjoyment of them. 

Whenever, therefore, we bless God for the circling 
seasons and revolving day, let us adore, .thankfully adore 
him for the more precious appearance of the Sun of 
Righteousness, and his glorious Gospel, without which 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 117 

we should have been groping, even to this hour in spi- 
ritual darkness and the shadow of death ; without which 
we must have wandered in a maze of inextricable un- 
certainties, and have " stumbled upon the dark moun- 
tains" of error, till we fell into the bottomless pit of 
perdition. 

Without that grand enlivening principle, what were 
this earth, but a lifeless mass, a rude lump of inactive 
matter ? The trees could never break forth into leaves, 
nor the plants spring up into flowers : we should no 
more behold the meadows mantled over with green, nor 
the valleys standing thick with corn : or, to speak in the 
beautiful language of a prophet: " No longer would the 
fig tree blossom, nor fruit be in the vine ; the labor of 
the olive would fail, and the fields could yield no meat : 
the flocks must be cut off from the fold, and there would 
be no herd in the stalls."* The sun darts its beams 
among all the vegetable tribes, and paints the spring and 
enriches the autumn : this pierces to the roots of the 
vineyard and the orchard, and sets afloat those ferment- 
ing juices which at length burst into floods of wine, or 
bend the boughs with a mellow load. Nor are its favors 
confined to the upper regions, but distributed into the 
deepest recesses of creation. It penetrates the beds of 
metal, and finds its way to the place of the sapphires : 
it tinctures the seeds of gold that are ripening into 
ore, and throws a brilliancy into the water of the dia- 
mond that is hardening on its rock : in short, the bene- 
ficial agency of this magnificent luminary is inexpress- 
ible ; it beautifies and impregnates universal nature ; 
" there is nothing hid from the heat thereof." 

Just in the same manner were the rational world dead 
in trespasses and sins, without* the reviving energy of 
Jesus Christ. He is the " Resurrection and the Life ;" 
the overflowing fountain of the one, and the all-power- 
ful cause of the other. The second Adam is a quicken- 
ing Spirit, and all his saints live through him. He shines 
upon their affections, and they shoot forth into heavenly 
* Hab. iii. 17. 



118 REFLECTIONS 



graces, and abound in the fruits of righteousness. Faith 
unfeigned, and love undissembled, those noblest produc- 
tions of the renewed nature, are the effects of his ope- 
ration on the mind. Not so much as one divine dispo- 
sition could spread itself, not one Christian habit unfold 
and flourish, without the kindly influences of his grace. 
As there is no fruitfulness, so likewise no cheerfulness , 
without the sun.* When that auspicious sovereign of 
the day diffuses the mildness of his morning splendor, 
he creates an universal festival. Millions of glittering 
insects awake into existence, and bask in his ray : the 
birds start from their slumbers, and pour their delighted 
souls in harmony : the flocks with bleating accents hail 
the welcome blessing : the valleys ring with rural music ; 
the hills echo back the artless strains : all that is vocal 
joins in the general choir ; all that has breath exults in 
the cheering influence. Whereas, were that radiant orb 
extinguished, a tremendous gloom would ensue, and 
horror insupportable. Nay, let it only be eclipsed for a 
few minutes, and all nature assumes an air of sadness : 
the heavens are wrapped in sables, and put on a kind 
of mourning ; the most sprightly animals hang down 
their dejected heads ; the songsters of the grove are 
struck dumb ; howling beasts roam abroad for prey ; 
ominous birds come forth and screech ; the heart of 
man fails, or a sudden pang seizes the foreboding mind. 
So, when Christ hides away his face, when faith loses 
sight of that consolation of Israel ; how gloomy are the 
prospects of the soul ! Our God seems to be a con- 
suming fire, and our sins cry loudly for vengeance : the 
thoughts bleed inwardly ; the Christian walks heavily ; 
all without is irksome, all within is disconsolate. Lift 
up then, most gracious Jesus, thou nobler day-spring from 
on high ! lift up the light of thy countenance upon 
thy people ! Reveal the fulness of thy mediatorial sufrl- 



* The sun, which is the great soul of the universe, and produces 
all the necessaries of life, has a particular influence in cheering the 
mind of man and making the heart glad, — Spect. vol. v. No, 387. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. H9 

ciency ; make clear our title to this great salvation, and 
thereby impart 

What nothing earthly gives or can destroy, 
The soul's calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy.* 

In one instance more let me pursue the similitude. 
The sun, I observe, pours his lustre all around, to every 
distance and in every direction : profusely liberal of his 
gifts, he illuminates and cheers all the ends of the earth 
and the whole compass of the skies ; the east reddens 
with his rising radiance, and the western hills are gilded 
with his streaming splendors ; the chilly regions of the 
north are cherished by his genial warmth, while the 
southern tracts glow with his fire. Thus are the influ- 
ences of the Sun of Righteousness diffusive and uncon- 
fined ; the generations of old felt them, and generations 
yet unborn will rejoice in them ; the merits of his pre- 
cious death extended to the first, and will be propagated 
to the last ages of mankind. May they, ere long, visit 
the remotest climates and darkest corners of the earth ! 
Command thy Gospel, blessed Jesus, thy everlasting 
Gospel, to take the wings of the morning and travel 
with yonder sun ; let it fly upon strong pinions among 
every people, nation, and language ; that where the 
heat scorches and the cold freezes, thou mayest be 
known, confessed, and adored ! that strangers to thy 
name, and enemies to thy doctrine, may be enlightened 
with the knowledge and won to the love of thy truth ! 
0! may that best of eras come, that wished-for period 
advance, when all the ends of the world shall remember 
themselves and be turned unto the Lord, and all the 
kindreds of the nations worship before him !\ 

From the heavens we retire to the earth. Here the 
drops of dew, like so many liquid crystals,:]: sparkle 
upon the eye. How brilliant and unsullied is their 

* Pope's Eth. Ep. f Psal. xxii. 27. 

t Now morn, her rosy steps in th' Eastern clime 
Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl. 

MlLTOX. 



120 REFLECTIONS 



lustre ! How little inferior to the proud stone which 
irradiates a monarch's crown ! They want nothing but 
solidity and permanency to equal them with the finest 
treasures of the jeweller's casket. Here, it must be 
confessed, they are greatly deficient. Short-lived orna- 
ments, possessed of little more than a momentary radi- 
ance ; the sun that lights them up will soon melt them 
into air, or exhale them into vapors ; within another 
hour we may u look for their place, and they shall be 
away." ! may every good resolution of mine and of 
my flocks, may our united breathings after God, not be 
like these transient decorations of the morning, but like 
the substantial glory of the growing day ! The one 
shines more and more with augmented splendors ; while 
the other, having glittered gaily for a few moments, dis- 
appears and is lost. 

How sensibly has this dew refreshed the vegetable 
kingdom ! The fervent heat of yesterday's sun had 
almost parched the face and exhausted the sweets of 
nature. But what a sovereign restorative are these 
cooling distillations of the night ? How they gladden 
and invigorate the languishing herbs ! Sparkled with 
these reviving drops, their verdure deepens, their bloom 
is new flushed ; their fragrance, faint or intermitted, be- 
comes potent and copious. Thus does the ever blessed 
Spirit revive the drooping troubled conscience of a sinner. 
When that Almighty Comforter sheds his sweet influence 
on the soul, displays the all-sufficient sacrifice of a Di- 
vine Redeemer, and " witnesses with our spirit," that we 
are interested in the Saviour, and by this means are chil- 
dren of God; then what a pleasing change ensues! 
Former anxieties are remembered no more ; every uneasy 
apprehension vanishes ; soothing hopes and delightful 
expectations succeed ; the countenance drops the de- 
jected mien ; the eyes brighten with a lively cheerful- 
ness ; while the lips express the heartfelt satisfaction in 
the language of thanksgiving and the voice of melody. 
In this sense, merciful God, be as the dew unto Israel ! 
" Pour upon them the continual dew of thy blessing." 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 121 

And ! let not my fleece be dry, while heavenly bene- 
diction descends upon all around. 

Who can number these pearly drops ? They hang on 
every hedge, they twinkle from every spray, and adorn 
the whole herbage of the field. Not a blade of grass, 
not a single leaf, but wears the watery pendants ; so vast 
is the profusion, that it baffles the arithmetician's art. 
Here let the benevolent mind contemplate and admire 
that emphatical Scripture, which from this elegant simili- 
tude describes the increase of the Messiah's kingdom. 
The royal prophet, speaking of Christ, and foretelling 
the success of his religion, has this remarkable expres- 
sion ;* " the dew of thy birth is of the womb of the morn- 

* Psalm, ex. 3.— ynV h® "jS irwn ODVI. The most exact 
translation of this difficult passage is, I apprehend, as follows: 
Prserore uteri auroras, tibi est ros juventutis, vel prolis tuae : The dew 
of thy birth is larger, more copious, than the dew which proceeds 
from the womb of the morning. I cannot acquiesce in the new ver- 
sion, because that disjoins womb of the morning from the dew of thy 
birth ,• whereas they seem to have a clear affinity and a close con- 
nection, The womb of the morning is, with the utmost pertinency, 
applied to the conception and production of dews, agreeably to a 
delicate line, in that great master of just description and lively paint- 
ing, Mr. Thomson : 

The meek-eyed morn appears, mother of dews. — Summer. 

We meet with a fine expression in the book of Job, which may 
serve to confirm this remark and illustrate the propriety of the 
phrase used in this connection: "Hath the rain a father, or who 
hath begotten the drops of dew . ? " It seems the Oriental writers de- 
lighted to represent the dew as a kind of birth, as the offspring of 
the morning : and if so, surely there could be no image in the whole 
compass of the universe better adapted to the Psalmist's purpose, 
or more strongly significant of those multitudes of proselytes which 
were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of 
man, but of God ; by the powerful energy of his word and Spirit. 
Upon this supposition, the whole verse describes, 
The willing subjection, "^ 

The gracious accomplishments, Cof Christ's converts. 
And the vast number, j 

q. d. In the day of thy power, when thy glorious Gospel shall be 
published in the world, and accompanied with marvellous efficacy — 
in that memorable period, thy people, discontinuing the former obla- 
tions commanded under the Mosaic law, shall devote themselves as so 
many living sacrifices to thy honor. Not constrained by force, but 



1^2 REFLECTIONS 



ing : (i. e.) As the morning is the mother of dews, pro- 
duces them as it were from a prolific womb, and scatters 
them with the most lavish abundance over all the sur- 
face of the earth ; so shall thy seed be, thou everlast- 

charmed with thy excellency, they shall come in volunteers to thy 
service, and be freewill offerings, in thy church. Neither shall they 
be " empty vines," or bare professors, but shall walk in all the beau* 
ties of holiness, and bring forth such amiable fruit as will adorn the 
doctrine they embrace. What is still more desirable, they shall be 
as numerous as they are willing and holy ; born to Thee in numbers 
immense and inconceivable, exceeding even the countless myriads 
of dew-drops which are begotten by the night and issue from the 
womb of the recent morning. 

By this interpretation, the text, I think, is cleared of its obscurity, 
and appears both truly sublime and perfectly just. 

May I be pardoned the digression, and acquitted from 'presumption, 
if on this occasion I take leave to animadvert upon what seems 
harsh and unnatural in the common exposition of the last verse of 
this psalm 1 All the commentators (as many at least as I have con- 
sulted) inform their readers, that to drink of the brook in the way, 
signifies to undergo sufferings and death ; which, in my opinion, is a 
construction extremely forced and hardly supportable ; altogether 
remote from the import of such poetical forms of diction customary 
among the Eastern nations, In those sultry climes nothing could 
be more welcome to the traveller than a brook streaming near his 
paths. To quench his thirst, and lave his feet in the cooling current, 
was one of the greatest refreshments imaginable, and reanimated 
him to pursue his journey ; for which reason, among others, brooks 
are a very favorite image with the inspired penmen, used to denote 
a situation fertile and delightful, or a state of pleasure and satisfac- 
tion : but never, that I can recollect, to picture out the contrary con- 
dition of tribulation and distress. 

The water-floods", indeed, in the sacred writings, often represent 
some imminent danger or grievous affliction ; but then they are not 
— *]VO Crbn;! — streams so calm that they keep within their banks, 
and glide quietly by the traveller's footsteps ; so clear that they are 
fit for the wayfaring man's use, and invite his lips to a draught; 
both which notions are plainly implied in the text. They are rather 
— , ~Dtf , D — boisterous billows, bursting over a ship, or dashing them- 
selves with dreadful impetuosity upon the shore : or — n OJy — sweep- 
ing inundations which bear down all before them, and drown the 
neiglibouring country. Besides, in these instances of horror we 
never find the word — 7\TW^ — He shall drink, which conveys a pleas- 
ing idea (unless when it relates to a cup filled with bitter, intoxica- 
ting, or impoisoned liquors, a case quite different from that under 
consideration) but either — JTJ73 — which imports terror and astonish- 
ment, or else — ^pV and 1^— which signifies to rush upon, to over- 
whelm, and even to bury under the waves. 

Upon the whole : may not the passage more properly allude to the 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 123 

ing Father ! By the preaching of thy word shall such 
an innumerable race of regenerate children be born unto 
Thee, and prove an ornament and a blessing to all ages. 
Millions, millions of willing converts from every nation 
under heaven shall crowd into thy family, and replenish 
thy church ; till they become like the stars of the sky or 
the sands of the sea for multitude, or even as numberless 
as these fine spangles which now cover the face of nature. 
Behold then, ye obstinately wicked, though you " are 
not gathered, yet will the Saviour be glorious." His 
design shall not miscarry nor his labor prove abortive, 
though you render it of none effect with regard to your- 
selves : think not that Immanuel will want believers, or 
heaven inhabitants, because you continue incorrigible* 
No, the Lamb that was slain will " see of the travail of 
his soul and be satisfied," in a never-failing series of 
faithful people below, and an immense choir of glorified 
saints above, who shall form his retinue and surround 
his throne in shining and triumphant armies, such as no 
man can number. 

Here I was reminded of the various expedients which 
Providence, unsearchably wise, uses to fructify both the 
material and intellectual world. Sometimes you shall 

influences of the Holy Ghost, which were communicated in unmeasu- 
rable degrees to our great High-Priest, and were in fact the cause 
of his surmounting all difficulties 1 These are frequently represented 
by waters,- "Whoso believeth on me, out of his belly shall flow 
rivers of living waters" The enjoyment of them is described by 
drinking.- " He that drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall 
never thirst." Then the sense may run in this well-connected and 
perspicuous manner. It is asked, How shall the Redeemer be able 
to execute the various and important offices foretold in the preceding 
parts of the psalm ! The prophet replies, He shall drink of the brook 
in the way : he shall not be left barely to his human nature, which 
must unavoidably sink under the tremendous work of recovering a 
lost world; but through the whole course of his incarnate state, 
through the whole administration of his mediatorial kingdom, shall 
be supported with omnipotent succors : he shall drink at the brook 
of Almighty power, and travel on in the greatness of an uncreated 
strength. Therefore shall he lift up his head; by this means shall he 
be equal to the prodigious task, and superior to all opposition ; by 
this means shall he be thoroughly successful in whatever he under- 
takes, and greatly triumphant over all his enemies. 



124 REFLECTIONS 



have impetuous and heavy showers bursting from the 
angry clouds : Ihey lash the plains and make the rivers 
foam : a storm brings them, and a deluge follows them. 
At other times these gentle dews are formed in the serene 
evening air : they steal down by slow degrees and with 
insensible stillness ; so subtile, that they deceive the 
nicest eye ; so silent, that they escape the most delicate 
ear; and when fallen, so very light, that they neither 
bruise the tenderest nor oppress the weakest flower. 
Very different operations ! yet each concurs in the same 
beneficial end, and both impart fertility to the lap of 
nature. 

So some persons I have known reclaimed from the 
unfruitful works of darkness by violent and severe means. 
The Almighty addressed their stubborn hearts as he ad- 
dressed the Israelites at Sinai, with lightning in his eyes 
and thunder in his voice. The conscience, smitten with 
a sense of guilt, and apprehensive of eternal vengeance, 
trembled through all her powers ; just as that strong 
mountain tottered to its centre : pangs of remorse and 
agonies of fear preceded their new birth ; they were 
i educed to the last extremities, almost overwhelmed with 
despair before they found rest in Jesus Christ. Others 
have been recovered from a vain conversation by methods 
more mild and attractive. The Father of spirits applied 
himself to their teachable minds in " a still and small 
voice :" his grace came down as the rain into a fleece 
of wool, or as these softening drops which now water 
the earth. The kingdom of God took place in their 
souls without noise or observation. They passed from 
death unto life, from a carnal to a regenerate state, by 
almost imperceptible advances ; the transition resembled 
the growth of corn ; was very visible when effected, 
though scarce sensible while accomplishing. O thou 
Author and Finisher of our faith, recall us from our wan- 
derings and re-unite us to Thyself! Whether Thou 
alarm us w r ith thy terrors, or allure us with thy smiles ; 
whether Thou drive us with the scourge of conviction, 
or draw us with the cords of love ; let us in any- wise 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. J25 

return to thee ; for Thou art our supreme good, Thou 
art our only happiness. 

Before I proceed farther, let me ascend the terrace and 
take one survey of the neighboring country. What a 
prospect rushes upon my sight ! How vast, how various, 
how " full and plenteous with all manner of store !" Na- 
ture's whole wealth ! What a rich and inexhaustible 
magazine is here, furnishing subsistence for every crea- 
ture ! Methinks I read in these spacious volumes a most 
lively comment upon that noble celebration of the divine 
beneficence ; He openeth his hands and filleth all things 
living with plenteousness. 

These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, 
Almighty ! Thine this universal frame, 
Thus wondrous fair ! Thyself how wondrous then ! 

Milton. 

The fields are covered deep, and stand thick, w T ith 
corn ; they expand the milky grain to the sun, while the 
gales, now inclining now raising each flexile stem, open 
all their ranks to the agency of his beams; which will 
soon impart a firm consistence to the grain, and a glossy 
golden hue to the ear, that they may be qualified to fill 
the barns of the husbandman with plenty and his heart 
with gladness. 

Yonder lie the meadows, smoothed into a perfect level, 
decorated with an embroidery of the gayest flowers, and 
loaded w T ith spontaneous crops* of herbage ; which, con- 
verted into hay, will prove a most commodious provision 
for the barrenness of winter, will supply with fodder our 
serviceable animals, when all the verdure of the plain is 
killed by frosts or buried in snows. A winding stream 
glides along the flowery margin, and receives the image 
of the bending skies, and waters the roots of many a 
branching willow : 'tis stocked, no doubt, with variety 
of fish, w r hich afford a solitary diversion to the angler, 
and nourish for his table a delicious treat : nor is it the 
only merit of this liquid element to maintain the finny 



■ Injussa virescunt 



Gramina — Virgil. 

11* 



126 REFLECTIONS 



nations ; it also carries cleanliness, and dispenses fruitful^ 
ness, wherever it rolls the crystal current. 

The pastures with their verdant mounds chequer the 
prospect, and prepare a standing repast for our cattle : 
there " our oxen are made strong to labor, and our 
sheep bring forth thousands and ten thousands ;" there 
the horse acquires vigor for the despatch of our business, 
and speed to expedite our journeys ; from thence the 
kine bring home their udders distended with one of the 
richest and healthiest liquors in the world. 

On several spots, a grove of trees, like some grand 
colonnade, erects its towering head : every one projects 
a friendly shade for the beasts, and creates an hospitable 
lodging for the birds ; every one stands ready to furnish 
timber for a palace, masts for a navy, or, with a more 
condescending courtesy, fuel for our hearths. One of 
them seems skirted with a wild uncultivated heath, which, 
like w T ell disposed shades in painting, throws an addi- 
tional lustre on the more ornamented parts of the land- 
scape. Nor is its usefulness, like that of a foil, relative 
only, but real. There several valuable creatures are 
produced and accommodated, without any expense or 
care of ours. There likewise springs abundance of those 
herbs which assuage the smart of our wounds, and allay 
the fiery tumults of the fever ; which impart floridity to 
our circulating fluids, add a more vigorous tone to our 
active solids, and thereby repair the decays of our en- 
feebled constitution. 

Nearer the houses we perceive an ample spread of 
branches, not so stately as the oaks, but more amiable 
for their annual services ; a little while ago 1 beheld 
them, and all was one beauteous boundless waste of 
blossoms; the eye marvelled at the lovely sight, and the 
heart rejoiced in the prospect of autumnal plenty : but 
now the blooming maid is resigned for the useful matron ; 
the flower is fallen, and the fruit swells out on every 
twig. Breathe soft, ye winds ! spare the tender fruit- 
age, ye surly blasts. Let the pear-tree suckle her juicy 
progeny, till they drop into our hands and dissolve in 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. J27 

our mo iths ; let the plum hang unmolested upon her 
boughs, till she fatten her delicious flesh, and cloud her 
polished skin with blue ; and as for the apples, that sta- 
ple commodity of our orchards, let no injurious shocks 
precipitate them immaturely to the ground, till revolving 
suns have tinged them with a ruddy complexion, and 
concocted them into an exquisite flavor. Then what 
copious hoards, what burnished rinds, and what delight- 
ful relishes will replenish the store-room ! Some to pre- 
sent us with an early entertainment, and refresh our pal- 
ates amidst the sultry heat. Some to borrow ripeness 
from the falling snows, and carry autumn into the depths 
of winter. Some to adorn the salver, make a part of the 
dessert, and give an agreeable close* to our feasts. 
Others to fill our vats with a foaming flood, which mel- 
lowed by age, may sparkle in the glass with a liveliness 
and delicacy little inferior to the blood of the grape. 

I observe several small inclosures, which seem to be 
apprehensive of some hostile visit from the north, and 
therefore are defended on that quarter by a thick wood 
or a lofty wall ; at the same time they cultivate an unin- 
terrupted correspondence with the south, and throw open 
their whole dimensions to its friendly warmth. One in 
particular lies within the reach of a distinguishing view, 
and proves to be a kitchen-garden : it looks, methinks, 
like a plain and frugal republic. Whatever may resem- 
ble the pomp of courts or the ensigns of royalty is ban- 
ished from this humble community. None of the pro- 
ductions of the olitory affect finery, but all are habited 
with the very perfection of decency. Here those cele- 
brated qualities are eminently united, the utmost sim- 
plicity with the exactest neatness, f A skilful hand has 
parcelled out the whole ground into narrow beds and 
intervening alleys. The same discreet management has 
assigned to each verdant family a peculiar and distinct 
abode ; so that there is no confusion amidst the great 



Ab ovo 



Usque ad mala Horace. 

-j- Simplex munditiis. — Horace. 



128 REFLECTIONS 



multiplicity, because every individual knows its proper 
home, and all the tribes are ranged with perfect regular- 
ity. If it be pleasing to behold their orderly situation 
and their modest beauties, how much more delightful to 
consider the advantages they yield ! What a fund of 
choice accommodations is here ! What a source of whole- 
some dainties! And all for the enjoyment of man. 
Why does the parsley, with her frizzled locks, shag the 
border ; or why the celery, with her whitening arms, 
perforate the mould, but to render his soups savory ? 
The asparagus shoots its tapering stems to offer him the 
first-fruits of the season ; and the artichoke spreads its 
turgid top to give him a treat of vegetable marrow. The 
tendrils of the cucumber* creep into the sun ; and, though 
basking in its hottest rays, they secrete for their master, 
and barrel up for his use, the most cooling juices of the 
soil. The beans stand firm like files of embattled troops ; 
the peas rest upon their props like so many companies of 
invalids ; while both replenish their pods with the fat- 
ness of the earth, on purpose to pour it on their owner's 
table. Not one species, among all this variety of herbs, 
is a cumberer of the ground. Not a single plant but is 
good for food, or some way salutary. With so benefi- 
cent an economy are the several periods of their minis- 
tration settled, that no portion of the year is left desti- 
tute of nourishing esculents. What is still more oblig- 
ing, every portion of the year affords such esculents as 
are best suited to the temperature of the air and the state 
of our bodies. Why then should the possessor of so val- 
uable a spot envy the condition of kings ?f since he may 

* Virgil, with great conciseness and equal propriety describes the 
cucumber ; 

Tortusque per herbam 

Cresceret in ventrem cucumis. — Georg. iv. 
Milton has (if we admit Dr. Bentley*s alteration, which is, I think, 
in this place unquestionably just) almost translated the Latin poet, 

Forth crept 

The swelling gourd. — Par. Lost. 
j* Hie varum tamen in dumis olus, albaque circum 
Lilia verbenasque premens, vescumque papaver, 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 129 

daily walk amidst rows of peaceable and obsequious, 
though mute subjects; every one of which renders him 
some agreeable present, and pays him a willing tribute, 
such as is most happily adapted both to supply his wants 
and to regale his taste ; to furnish him at once with 
plenty and with pleasure. 

At a distance one descries the mighty hills: they 
heave their huge ridges among the clouds, and look like 
the barriers of kingdoms, or the boundaries of nature. 
Bare and deformed as their surface may appear, their 
bowels are fraught with inward treasures ; treasures 
lodged fast in the quarries, or sunk deep in the mines. 
From thence industry may draw her implements to plough 
the soil, to reap the grain, and procure every necessary 
convenience. From thence art may fetch her materials 
to rear the dome, to swell the organ, and form the no- 
blest ornaments of politer life. 

On another side the great deep terminates the view. 
There go the ships : there is that leviathan : and there, in 
that world of waters, an inconceivable number of ani- 
mals have their habitation. This is the capacious cistern 
of the universe ; which admits, as into a receptacle, and 
distributes, as from a reservoir, whatever waters the 
whole globe. There is not a fountain that gushes in 
the unfrequented desert, nor a rivulet that flows in the 
remotest continent, nor a cloud that swims in the highest 
regions of the firmament, but is fed by this all replenish- 
ing source. The ocean is the grand vehicle of trade, and 
the uniter of distant nations. To us it is peculiarly kind, 
not only as it wafts into our ports the harvest of every 
climate, and renders our island the centre of traffic, but 
also as it secures us from foreign invasions by a sort of 
impregnable intrenchment.* 

Regum sequabat opes animis : seraque revertens 
Node domum, dapibus mensas onerabat inemptis. 

Virg. Georg. iv. 
* Whose rampart was the sea. — Nahum, iii. 8. 
I hope this little excursion into the country will not be looked 
upon as a departure from my subject; because a rural view, though 



130 REFLECTIONS 



Methinks the view of this profuse munificence inspires 
a secret delight^ and kindles a disinterested good-will. 
While the " little hills clap their hands," and the luxu- 
riant " valleys laugh and sing ;" who can forbear catch- 
ing the general joy? who is not touched with lively 
sensations of pleasure ? While the everlasting Father is 
scattering blessings through his whole family, and crown- 
ing the year with his goodness ; who does not feel his 
breast overflowing with a diffusive benevolence ?' My 
heart, I must confess, beats high with satisfaction, and 
breathes out congratulatory wishes upon all the tenants 
of these rural abodes; "peace be within your walls, as 
well as plenteousness around your dwellings." Live, 
ye highly favored, live sensible of your benefits, and 
thankful to your Benefactor. Look round upon these 
prodigiously large incomes of the fruitful soil, and call 
them (for you have free leave) all your own. Only let 
me remind you of one very important truth. Let me 
suggest, and may you never forget, that you are obliged 
to Christ Jesus for every one of these accommodations 
which spring from the teeming earth and the smiling 
skies. 

1. Christ made them,* when they were not. He 

no essential part of a garden, is yet a desirable appendage, and 
necessary to complete its beauty. As usefulness is the most valuable 
property which can attend any production : this is the circumstance 
chiefly touched upon in the survey of the landscape. Though every 
piece of this extensive and diversified scene is cast in the most 
elegant mould, yet nothing is calculated merely for show and parade. 
You see nothing formed in the taste of the ostentatious obelisk, or 
insignificant pomp of the pyramid. No such idle expenses were 
admitted into that consummate plan, which regulated the structure 
of the universe. All the decorations of nature are no less advan- 
tageous than ornamental ; such as speak the Maker infinitely benefi- 
cent, as well as incomparably magnificent. 

* When I ascribe the work of creation to the Son, I would by no 
means be supposed to withhold the same honor from the Eternal 
Father and Ever-blessed Spirit. The acts of these inconceivably 
glorious persons are, like their essence, undivided and one. But I 
choose to state the point in this manner, because this is the manifest 
doctrine of the New Testament ; is the express belief of our church ; 
and a most noble peculiarity of the Gospel Revelation. I choose it 
also, because I would take every opportunity of inculcating and 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 131 

fetched them up from utter darkness, and gave them 
both their being and their beauty. He created the ma- 
terials of which they are composed, and moulded them 
into this endless multiplicity of amiable forms and useful 
substances. He arrayed the heavens with a vesture of 
the mildest blue, and clothed the earth in a livery of the 
gayest green. His pencil streaked, and his breath per- 
fumed, whatever is beautiful or fragrant in the universe. 
His strength set fast the mountains ; his goodness gar- 
nished the vales ; and the same touch which healed the 
leper, wrought the whole visible system into this com- 
plete perfection. 

2. Christ recovered them when they w T ere forfeited. 
By Adam's sin we lost our right to the comforts of life 
and fruits of the ground. His disobedience was the 
most impious and horrid treason against the King of 
kings. Consequently his whole patrimony became con- 
fiscated : as well the portion of temporal good things 
settled upon the human race during their minority, as 
that everlasting heritage reserved for their enjoyment 
w T hen they should come to full age. But the " seed of 
the woman" instantly interposing, took off the attainder, 
and redeemed the alienated inheritance. The first Adam 
being disinherited, the second Adam* was appointed heir 

celebrating the divinity of the Redeemer : a truth which imparts an 
unutterable dignity to Christianity; a truth, which lays an immov- 
able foundation for all the comfortable hopes of a Christian ; a truth, 
which will render the mystery of our redemption the wonder and 
delight of eternity : and with this truth, every one will observe, my 
assertion is inseparably connected. 

If any one questions whether this be the doctrine of our church, 
let the creed, which we repeat in our most solemn devotions, deter- 
mine this doubt : " I believe," says that form of sound words, " in 
one Lord Jesus Christ, very God of very God, by whom all things 
were made''' If it be farther inquired from whence the Nicene Fa- 
thers derived this article of their faith ; I answer from the writings 
of the beloved disciple who lay on the Saviour's bosom, and of that 
great apostle who had been caught up into the third heaven. — John, 
i. 3. Coloss. i. 16. 

* Heb. i. 2. — In this sense, at least, Christ is the Saviour of all men* 
The former and latter rain ; the precious fruits of the earth ; food to 
eat, and raiment to put on; all these he purchased, even for his 



132 REFLECTIONS 



of all things, visible as well as invisible. And we hold 
our possessions of the former, we expect an instatement 
in the latter, purely by virtue of our alliance to Him, 
and our union with Him. 

3. Christ upholds them, which would otherwise tumble 
into ruin. ByJiim, says the Oracle of Inspiration, all 
things consist* His finger rolls the seasons round, and 
presides over all the celestial revolutions. His finger 
winds up the wheels, and impels every spring of vegeta- 
tive nature. In a word, the whole weight of the creation 
rests upon his mighty arm, and receives the whole har- 
mony of its motion from his unerring eye. This habit- 
able globe, with all its rich appendages and fine ma- 
chinery, could no more continue than they could create 
themselves. Start they would into instant confusion, or 
drop into their primitive nothing, did not his power sup- 
port, and his wisdom regulate them every moment. In 
conformity to his will, they subsist steadfast and invariable 
in their orders, and wait only for his sovereign nod, to 
" fall away like water that runneth apace." 

4. Christ actuates them,f which would otherwise be 

irreclaimable enemies. They eat of his bread, who lift up their heel 
against Him. 

We learn from hence, in what a peculiar and endearing light the 
Christian is to contemplate the things that are seen. Heathens might 
discover an eternal power and infinite wisdom in the structure of the 
universe ; heatliens might acknowledge a most stupendous liberality 
in the unreserved grant of the whole fabric, with all its furniture, to 
the service of man: but the Christian should ever keep in mind his 
forfeiture of them, and the price paid to redeem them. He should 
receive the gifts of indulgent Providence, as the Israelites received 
their law, from the hand of a Mediator. Or rather, to him they 
should come, not only issuing from the stores of an unbounded 
bounty, but swimming (as it were) in that crimson tide which 
streamed from ImmanueVs veins. 

* Col. i. 17. — I beg leave to subjoin St. Chrysostorris pertinent and 
beautiful note upon the passage ; by which it will appear, that the 
sentiment of these sectionsis not merely a private opinion, bat the 
avowed belief of the primitive church : — Tovr&mvj says the eloquent 

father, eig avrov Kpe/xarai rj -rravrcov tnroaraaig* ov povov avrog avra ek rov \nr\ 
ovrog eig to eivai Ttaprjysv, a\Xa kcli avrog avra avyKparei vvv owrj av airoa- 
rrourBr} tt\o vrov itpovoiag, oko\u>\s kcli 6iz<pBaparai* 

■j- John, v. 17. — My Father worketh hitherto, and I work : or, I exert 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. J 33 

lifeless and insignificant. Pensioners they are, constant 
pensioners, on his bounty ; and borrow their all from his 
fulness. He only has life ; and whatever operates, oper- 
ates by an emanation from his all-sufficiency. Does the 
grape refresh you with its enlivening juices ? It is by a 
warrant received, and virtue derived, from the Re- 
deemer. Does bread strengthen your heart, and prove 
the staff of your life ? Remember, that it is by the Sa- 
viour's appointment, and through the efficacy of his 
operation. You are charmed with his melody, when the 
" time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of 
the nightingale is heard in your land." You taste his 
goodness in the luscious fig, the melting peach, and the 
musky flavor of the apricot. You smell his sweetness 
in the opening honeysuckle and every odoriferous shrub. 
Could these creatures speak for themselves, they 
would doubtless disclaim all sufficiency of their own, 
and ascribe the whole honor to their Maker. u We are 
servants," would they say, " of Him, who died for you. 
Cisterns only, dry cisterns in ourselves, we transmit to 
mortals no more than the uncreated fountain transfuses 
into us. Think not that from any ability of our own we 
furnish you with assistance, or administer to your com- 
fort. 'Tis the divine energy, the divine energy alone, 
that works in us, and does you good. We serve you, O 
ye sons of men, that you may love Him who placed us 
in these stations. * ! love the Lord, therefore, all ye 
who are supported by our ministry, or else we shall 
groan* with indignation, and regret at your abuse of our 
services. Use us, and welcome : for we are yours, if ye 
are Christ's. Crop our choicest beauties ; rifle all our 
treasures ; accommodate yourselves with our most valu- 



that unremitting and unwearied energy which is the life of the crea- 
tion. Thus, the words are paraphrased by a masterly expositor, who 
has illustrated the life of our blessed Lord in the most elegant taste 
of criticism, with the most amiable spirit of devotion, and without 
any mixture of malignant leaven or low singularities of a party. — 
See Family Expositor, vol. i sect. 47. 
* Rom. viii. 22. 

12 



134 REFLECTIONS 



able qualities ; only let us be incentives to your gratis 
tude, and motives to your obedience." 

Having surveyed the spacious sky, and sent a glance 
round the inferior creation ; 'tis time to descend from 
this eminence, and confine my attention to the beautiful 
spot below. Here Nature, always pleasing, every where 
lovely, appears with peculiar attractions. Yonder she 
seems dressed in her dishabille ; grand, but irregular ; 
here, she calls on her handmaid Art, and shines in all 
the delicate ornaments which the nicest cultivation is 
able to convey. Those are her common apartments, . 
where she lodges her ordinary guests ; this is her cabinet 
of curiosities, where she entertains her intimate acquaint- 
ance. My eye shall often expatiate over those scenes 
of universal fertility : my feet shall sometimes brush 
through the thicket, or traverse the lawn, or stroll along 
the forest glade : but to this delightful retreat shall be 
my chief resort. Thither will I make excursions, but 
here will I dwell. 

If, from my low procedure, I may form an allusion to 
the most exalted practices, I would observe upon this 
occasion, that the celebrated Erasmus, and our judicious 
Locke, having trod the circle of the sciences and ranged 
through the whole extent of human literature, at length 
betook themselves solely to the Bible. Leaving the 
sages of antiquity, they sat incessantly at the feet of 
Jesus. Wisely they withdrew from that immense mul- 
tiplicity of learning, from those endless tracts of amusing 
erudition, where noxious weeds are mixed with whole- 
some herbs, where is generally a much larger growth of 
prickly shrubs than of fruitful boughs. They spent their 
most mature hours in those hallowed gardens which 
God's own wisdom planted ; which God's own Spirit 
watereth ; and in which God's own Son is continually 
walking ; where He meeteth those that seek him, and 
revealeth to them the glories of his person and the riches 
of his goodness. 

Thus w T ould I finish the remainder of my days ! 
Having just tasted (what they call) the politer studies, I 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 135 

would now devote my whole application to the lively 
oracles. From other pursuits I might glean,' perhaps, 
a few scattered fragments of low, of lean, of unsatisfac- 
tory instruction. From this, I trust to reap a harvest of 
the sublimest truths, the noblest improvements, and the 
purest joys.* Waft me then, ! waft my mind to Sion's 
consecrated bowers. Let my thoughts perpetually rove 
through the awfully pleasing walks of inspiration. Here 
grow those heavenly plants, the trees of life and know- 
ledge, whose ambrosial fruits we now may " take and 
eat, and live forever." Here flow those precious streams 
of grace and righteousness, whose living waters " who- 
soever drinks shall thirst no more." And, what can the 
fables of Grecian song, or the finest pages of Roman 
eloquence — what can they exhibit in any degree com- 
parable to these matchless prerogatives of Revelation ? 
Therefore, though I should not dislike to pay a visit now 
and then to my heathen masters, I would live with the 
prophets and apostles. With those, I would carry on 
some occasional correspondence ; but these should be 
my bosom friends, my inseparable companions, " my 
delight and my counsellors." 

What sweets are these, which so agreeably salute my 
nostrils ? They are the breath of the flowers, the in- 
cense of the garden. How T liberally does the jessamine 
dispense her odoriferous riches ! How deliciously has 
the woodbine embalmed this morning walk ! The air 
is all perfume. And is not this another most engaging 
argument to forsake the bed of sloth ? Who would lie 
dissolved in senseless slumbers, while so many breathing 
sweets invite him to a feast of fragrancy ? especially 
considering, that the advancing day will exhale the 
volatile duties. A fugitive treat they are, prepared only 
for the wakeful and industrious : whereas, when the 
sluggard lifts his heavy eyes, the flowers will droop, 
their fine scents be dissipated, and, instead of this 



* Quicquid docetur, Veritas ; quicquid prxcipitur, bonitas ; quicquid 
promittitur, felicitas. 



136 REFLECTIONS 



refreshing humidity, the air will become a kind of 
liquid fire. 

With this very motive, heightened by a representation 
of the most charming pieces of morning scenery, the 
parent of mankind awakes his lovely consort. There is 
such a delicacy in the choice, and so much life in the 
description, of these rural images, that I cannot excuse 
myself without repeating the whole passage. Whisper 
it, some friendly genius, in the ear of every one who is 
now sunk in sleep, and lost to all these refined gratifica- 
tions ! 

Awake: the morning shines, and the fresh field 
Calls you : ye lose the prime, to mark how spring 
The tended plants, how blows the citron grove ; 
What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed ; 
How nature paints her colors ; how the bee 
Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweets.* 

How delightful is this fragrance ! It is distributed in 
the nicest proportion; neither so strong as to oppress the 
organs, nor so faint as to elude them. We are soon 
cloyed at a sumptuous banquet ; but this pleasure never 
loses its poignancy, never palls the appetite. Here 
luxury itself is innocent ; or rather, in this case, indul- 
gence is incapable of excess. This balmy entertain- 
ment not only regales the sense, but cheers the very 
soul ;f and instead of clogging, elates its powers. It 
puts me in mind of that ever memorable sacrifice which 
was once made in behalf of offending mortals : I mean 
the sacrifice of the blessed Jesus, when he offered up him- 
self to God " for a sweet-smelling savor." Such the 
Holy Spirit styles that wonderful oblation ; as if no 
image in the whole sensible creation was so proper to 
give us an idea of the ineffable satisfaction which the 
Father of Mercies conceived from that unparalleled 
atonement, as the pleasing sensations which such rich 
perfumes are capable of raising. " Thousands of rams, 
and ten thousands of rivers of oil," from an apostate 

* Milton's Paradise Lost. 

\ Ointment and perfume rejoice the heart. — Prov. xxvii. 9. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 137 

world ; the most submissive acknowledgments, added 
to the most costly offerings, from men of denied hands and 
unclean lips ; what could they have effected ? A prophet 
represents the " High and Lofty One that inhabiteth 
eternity," turning himself away from such filthy rags, 
turning himself away with a disdainful abhorrence, * as 
from the noisome steams of a dunghill ; but in Christ's 
immaculate holiness, in Christ's consummate obedience, 
in Christ's most precious blood-shedding, with what un- 
imaginable complacency does justice rest satisfied, and 
vengeance acquiesce ! All thy works , thou surety for 
ruined sinners ! all thy sufferings, O thou slaughtered 
Lamb of God ! as well as all thy garments, thou bride- 
groom of thy church ! smell of myrrh, aloes, and cassia !\ 
They are infinitely more grateful to the eternal Godhead, 
than the choicest exhalations of the garden, than all the 
odors of the spicy East, can be to the human nostrils. 

As the altar of old sanctified the gift, so this is the 
great propitiation which recommends the obnoxious per- 
sons and unprofitable services of the believing world. 
In this may my soul be interested ! by this may it be re- 
conciled to the Father! There is such a leprous de- 
pravity cleaving to my nature, as pollutes whatever I 
perform : my most profound adorations and sincerest acts 
of religion must not presume to challenge a reward, but 
humbly implore forgiveness. J Renouncing, therefore, 
myself in every instance of duty, disclaiming all shadow 
of confidencell in any deeds of my own, may I now and 
evermore be accepted through the Beloved ! 

* Amos, v. 21, 22. f Psalm, xlv. 8. 

t A writer of distinguished superiority thus addresses the great 
Observer of actions and Searcher of hearts, and vindicates my sen 
timents, while he so justly and beautifully utters his own : 

Look down, great God, with pity's softest rfye, 
On a poor breathing particle in dust. 
His crimes forgive, forgive his virtues too, 
Those smaller faults, half converts to the right. 

Night Thoughts. 

fl See pages 44 and 45, in the second edition of a most candid and 
evangelical little treatise, called " Christianity the great Ornament of 

12* 



133 REFLECTIONS 



What colors, what charming colors are here ! these so 
nobly bold, and those so delicately languid ! What a 
glow is enkindled in some, what gloss shines upon 
others ! In one, methinks, I see the ruby with her 
bleeding radiance ; in another, the sapphire with her 
sky-tinctured blue ; in all, such an exquisite richness of 
dyes, as no other set of paintings in the universe can 
boast.* With what a masterly skill is every one of the 
varying tints disposed ! Here they seem to be throw T n 
on with an easy dash of security and freedom, there they 
are adjusted by the nicest touches of art and accuracy : 
those w r hich form the ground are always so judiciously 
chosen, as to heighten the lustre of the superadded 
figures ; while the verdure of the impalement, or the 
shadings of the foliage, impart new liveliness to the 
whole: indeed, whether they are blended or arranged, 
softened or contrasted, they are manifestly under the 
conduct of a taste that never mistakes, a felicity that 
never falls short of the very perfection of elegance. 
Fine, inimitably fine, is the texture of the web on w T hich 
these shining treasures are displayed. What are the 
labors of the Persian looms, or the boasted commodities 
of Brussels, compared w T ith these curious manufactures 
of Nature ? Compared with these, the most admired 



Human Life :" — "If Christians happily avoid the dangerous extreme, 
and too often fatal rock, of a dead, fruitless faith on the one hand, 
he (i. e. Satan) will endeavor, by all kind of plausible insinuations, 
to split them on the opposite, viz, spiritual pride, ostentation, and de- 
pendence on their works, as if these were the meritorious, or procuring 
cause of all true peace, hope, consolation, and divine acceptance : 
now this self-dependence may be ranked among the most dangerous 
of the infernal politics, because the fatal poison lies deep, and too 
often undiscerned." 

Who can paint 



Like nature ? Can imagination boast, 

Amid his gay creation, hues like these 1 

And can he mix them with that matchless skill, 

And lay them on so delicately fine, 

And lose them in each other, cs appears 

In every bud that blows 1 

Thomson's Spiling. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 139 

chintses lose their reputation ; even superfine cambrics 
appear coarse as canvass in their presence. 

What a cheering argument does our Saviour derive 
from hence, to strengthen our affiance in God ! He 
directs us to learn a lesson of heaven-depending faith 
from every bird that wings the air, and from every flower 
that blossoms in the field. If Providence, with unre- 
mitted care, supports those inferior creatures, and arrays 
these insensible beings with so much splendor ; surely 
He will in no wise withhold from his elect children 
" bread to eat, and raiment to put on." Ye faithful fol- 
lowers of the Lamb, dismiss every low anxiety relating 
to the needful sustenance of life. He that feeds the 
ravens from an inexhaustible magazine ; He that paints 
the plants with such surpassing elegance ; in short, He 
that provides so liberally both for the animal and veget- 
able parts of the creation, will not, cannot neglect his 
own people. Fear not, little flock, ye peculiar objects 
of Almighty love ! it is your Father's good pleasure to 
give you a kingdom* And, if He freely gives you an 
everlasting kingdom hereafter, is it possible to suppose 
that He will deny you any necessary conveniences here ? 

One cannot forbear reflecting in this place, on the too 
prevailing humor of being fond and ostentatious of 
dress, f 

* Luke xii. 32, 

•j- Mr. Addison has a fine remark on a female warrior, celebrated 
by Virgil. He observes that, with all her other great qualities, this 
little foible mingled itself; because, as the poet relates, an intempe- 
rate fondness for a rich and splendid suit of armor betrayed her into 
ruin. In this circumstance our critic discovers a moral concealed ; 
this he admires as a neat, though oblique satire, on that trifling pas- 
sion. — Spect. vol. i. No. 15. 

I would refer it to the judicious reader, whether there is not a 
beauty of the same kind, but touched with a more masterly hand, in 
the song of Deborah. — Speaking of Siseras mother, the sacred 
eucharistic ode represents her, as anticipating, in her fond fancy, 
the victory of her son, and indulging the following soliloquy : — 
Have they not sped ? Have they not divided the prey ? To Sisera a 
prey of divers colors, a prey of divers colors of needlework : of divers 
colors of needlework on both sides, meet for the necks of them that take 
the spoil? She takes no notice of the signal service which her hero 



140 REFLECTIONS 



What an abject and mistaken ambition is this! How 
unworthy the dignity of immortal, and the wisdom of 
rational beings ! especially since these little productions 
of the earth have indisputably the pre-eminence in such 
outward embellishments. Go, clothe thyself with purple 
and fine linen, trick thyself up in all the gay attire which 
the shuttle or the needle can furnish ; yet know, to the 
mortification of thy vanity, that the native elegance of a 
common daisy* eclipses all this elaborate finery. Nay, 
wert thou decked like some illustrious princess on her 
coronation day, in all the splendor of royal apparel ; 
couldst thou equal even Solomon in the height of his 
magnificence and glory, yet would the meanest among 
the flowery populace outshine thee ; every discerning 
eye would give the preference to these beauties of the 
ground. f Scorn, then, to borrow thy recommendations 

would do his country, by quelling so dangerous an insurrection. 
She never reflects on the present acclamations, the future advance- 
ment, and the eternal renown, which are the tribute usually paid to 
a conqueror's merit. She can conceive, it seems, nothing greater 
than to be clad in an embroidered vesture, and to trail along the 
ground a robe of the richest dyes. This is, in her imagination, the 
most lordly spoil he can win, the most stately trophy he can erect. 
It is also observable how she dwells upon the trivial circumstance, 
reiterating again and again : it has so charmed her ignoble heart, so 
entirely engrossed her little views, that she can think of nothing else, 
speak of nothing else, and can hardly ever desist from the darling 
topic. Is not this a keen though delicately couched censure, on that 
poor, contemptible, grovelling taste, which is enamored with silken 
finery, and makes the attributes of a butterfly the idol of its affections* 
Kow conspicuous is the elevated and magnificent spirit of that 
venerable mother in Israel, when viewed in comparison with the low, 
the despicable turn of this Canaanitish lady / Such strong and 
beautiful contrasts are, I think, some of the most striking excellences 
of poetic painting ; and in no book are they more frequently used, 
or expressed with greater life, than in the sacred volumes of inspi- 
ration. 

* Peaceful and lowly in their native soil, 
They neither know to spin, nor care to toil ; 
Yet with confessed magnificence deride 
Our mean attire, and impotence of pride. 

Prior. 

f Mr. Cowley, with his usual brilliancy of imagination, styles tnem 
Stars of Earth. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 141 

from a neat disposition of threads, and a curious ar- 
rangement of colors : assume a becoming greatness of 
temper : let thy endowments be of the immortal kind : 
study to be all-glorious within: be clothed with humility: 
w r ear the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit :* to say 
all in a word, put on the Lord Jesus Christ :f let his 
blood be sprinkled upon thy conscience, and it shall be 
whiter than the virgin snows : let his righteousness, like 
a spotless robe, adorn thy inner man ; and thou shalt be 
amiable, even in the most distinguishing eye of God : 
let his blessed Spirit dwell in thy heart ; and, under his 
sanctifying operations, thou shalt be made partaker of a 
divine nature. 

These are real excellencies ; truly noble accomplish- 
ments these. In this manner be arrayed, be beautified ; 
and thou wilt not find a rival in the feathers of a peacock, 
or the foliation of a tulip. These will exalt thee far above 
the low pretensions of lace and embroidery. These will 
prepare thee to stand in the beatific presence, and to take 
thy seat among the angels of light. 

What an enchanting situation is this ! One can scarce 
be melancholy within the atmosphere of flowers. Such 
lively hues and delicious odors, not only address them- 
selves agreeably to the senses, but touch, with a surpris- 
ing delicacy, the sweetest movements of the mind. 

-To the heart inspiring 



Vernal delight and joy4 — Miltoit. 

* How beautifully does the prophet describe the furniture of a 
renewed and heavenly mind under the similitude of a rich and com- 
plete suit of apparel: "I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my soul 
shall be joyful in my God, for he hath clothed me with the garments 
of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, as 
a bridegroom decketh himself with ornaments, and as a bride 
adorneth herself with her jewels." — Isa. lxi. 10. 

f Rom. xiii. 14. 

i I would have my reader endeavor to moralize this natural plea- 
sure of the soul, and to improve this vernal delight, as Milton calls it, 
into a Christian virtue. When we find ourselves inspired with this 
pleasing instinct, this secret satisfaction and complacency arising 
from the beauties of the creation, let us consider to whom we stand 
indebted for all these entertainments of sense ; and who it is that 



X42 REFLECTIONS 



How often have I felt them dissipate the gloom of 
thought, and transfuse a sudden gaiety through the de- 
jected spirit! I cannot wonder that kings descend from 
their thrones to walk amidst blooming ivory and gold ; 
or retire from the most sumptuous feast, to be recreated 
with the more refined sweets of the garden. I cannot 
wonder that queens forego for a while the compliments 
of a nation, to receiva a tribute of the parterre ; or with- 
draw from all the glitter of a court , to be attended with 
the more splendid equipage of a bed of flowers. But, if 
this be so pleasing, what transporting pleasure must arise 
from the fruition of uncreated Excellency! 0, what un- 
known delight to enter into thy immediate presence^ most 
blessed Lord God ! to see thee,* thou King of Heaven, 
and Lord of Glory, no longer " through a glass darkly, 
but face to face !" to have all thy goodness, all thy great- 
ness, shine before us ; and be made glad for ever with 
the brightest discovery of thy perfections, with the ineffa- 
ble joy of thy countenance ! 

This we cannot bear in our present imperfect state. 
The effulgence of unveiled Divinity would dazzle a 
mortal sight. Our feeble faculties would be overwhelmed 
with such a fulness of superabundant bliss, and must lie 
oppressed under such an exceedingly great, eternal weight 
of glory. But when this corruptible hath put on incor- 
ruption, the powers of the soul w T ill be greatly invi- 

thus opens his hand and fills the world with good. Such an habitual 
disposition of mind consecrates every field and wood, turns an ordi- 
nary walk into a morning or evening sacrifice, and will improve those 
transient gleams, which naturally brighten up and refresh the soul 
on such occasions, into an inviolable and perpetual state of bliss 
and happiness. — Spect. vol. v. No. 394. 

* Isaiah represents the felicity of the righteous, in the everlasting 
world, by this elegant and amiable image: "Thine eyes shall see 
the King in his beauty. — Isa. xxxiii. 17. Milton touches the same 
subject, with wonderful elevation and majesty of thought: 

They walk with God, 

High in salvation, and the climes of bliss. 

Milton. 

Words, which, like the fiery car, almost transport our affections 
to those glorious abodes. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. ]43 

gorated ; and these earthly tabernacles will be trans- 
formed into the likeness of Christ's glorious body. Then, 
though " the moon shall be confounded, and the sun 
ashamed,' 5 * when the Lord of Hosts is revealed from 
heaven, yet shall his faithful people be enabled to see 
Him as Heis.\ 

Here then, my wishes, here be fixed. Be this your 
determined and invariable aim. Here, my affections, 
here give a loose to your whole ardor. Cry out, in the 
language of inspiration : This one thing have I desired of 
the Lord which with incessant earnestness I will require, 
— that I may dwell in the celestial house of the Lord all 
the days of my future life, to behold the fair beauty of the 
Lord,\ and to contemplate with wonder and adoration, 
with unspeakable and everlasting rapture, all the attri- 
butes of the incomprehensible Godhead. 

Solomon, a most penetrating judge of human nature, 
knowing how highly mankind is charmed with the fine 
qualities of flowers, has figured out the blessed Jesus, 
that " fairest among ten thousand," by these lovely re- 
presentatives. He styles him The rose of Sharon,\\ and 
The lily of the valleys ;§ like the first, full of delights and 
communicable graces; like the last, exalted in majesty, 
and complete in beauty. In that sacred pastoral, he 
ranges the creation, borrows its most finished forms, and 
dips his pencil in its choicest dyes, to present us with a 

* Is a. xxiv. 23. f John, iii. 2. 

* Psal. xxvii. 4. j Cant. ii. 1. 

Malus ut arboribus decori est, ut vitibus uvae, 

Vlque rosce campis, ut Mia vallibus alba. 

Sic Christus decus omne suis. 
§ By the lily of the valleys, I apprehend, is meant, not the flower 
which commonly passes under that denomination, and is compara- 
tively mean ; but the grand, majestic garden lily, growing in a rich 
irriguous soil, where it flourishes in the most ample manner, and 
arrives at the highest perfection. The circumstance of the valleys, 
added by the sacred writer, is significant not of the species but of the 
place. This is by far the noblest interpretation, and most exactly 
suitable to the spiritual sense, which intimates, that the blessed Jesus 
delights to dwell by the communications of his Spirit, in humble 
hearts O^DD^n fUBW, Lilium vallibus gaudens. 



144 REFLECTIONS 



sketch of the amiableness of his person : his amiableness, 
whq is the light of the world, the glory of his church, 
the only hope, the sovereign consolation of sinners, and 
exalted, infinitely exalted, not only above the sublimest 
comparison, but even " above all blessing and praise." 
May I also make the same heavenly use of all sublunary 
enjoyments ! Whatever is pleasurable or charming below, 
let it raise my desire to those delectable objects which 
are above; which will yield, not partial, but perfect 
felicity ; not transient, but never ending satisfaction and 
joy. Yes, my soul, let these beauties in miniature 
always remind thee of that glorious Person, in whom 
" dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily." Let 
these little emanations teach thee to thirst after the eternal 
fountain. ! may the creatures be thy constant clew 
. to the Creator ! For this is a certain truth, and deserves' 
thy frequent recollection, demands thy most attentive 
consideration, — that the whole compass of finite perfec- 
tion is only a faint ray,* shot from that immense source 
— is only a small drop, derived from that inexhaustible 
ocean — of all good. 

What a surprising variety is observable among the 
flowery tribes ! How has the bountiful hand of Provi- 
dence diversified these nicest pieces of his workmanship ; 
added the charms of an endless novelty to all their other 
perfections ! A constant uniformity would soon render 
the entertainment tiresome or insipid ; therefore every 
species is formed on a separate plan, and exhibits some- 
thing entirely new. The fashion spreads not from family 
to family ; but every one has a mode of his own, which 
is truly original. The most cursory glance perceives an 
apparent difference, as well as a peculiar delicacy, in 
the airs and habits , the attitude and lineaments, of every 
distinct class. 



-Thou sitt's above all heavens, 



To us invisible, or dimly seen 

In these thy lowest works: yet these declare 

Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. 

Milton. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 145 

Some rear their heads with a majestic mien, and over- 
look, like sovereigns or nobles, the whole parterre. Others 
seem more moderate in their aims, and advance only to 
the middle stations ; a genius turned for heraldry might 
term them the gentry of the border : while others, free 
from all aspiring views, creep unambitiously on the 
ground, and look like the commonalty of the kind. 
Some are intersected with elegant stripes, or studded 
with radiant spots. Some affect to be genteelly powdered, 
or neatly fringed : while others are plain in their aspect, 
unaffected in their dress, and content to please with a 
naked simplicity. Some assume the monarch's purple ; 
some look most becoming in the virgin's white; but black, 
doleful black, has no admittance into the wardrobe of 
Spring. The weeds of mourning would be a manifest 
indecorum, when nature holds an universal festival. She 
would now inspire none but delightful ideas ; and there- 
fore always makes her appearance in some amiable suit.* 
Here stands a warrior, clad with crimson ; there sits a 
magistrate, robed in scarlet ; and yonder struts a pretty 
fellow, that seems to have dipped his plumes in the rain- 
bow, and glitters in all the gay colors of that resplendent 
arch. Some rise into a curious cup, or fall into a set 
of beautiful bells. Some spread themselves in a swell- 
ing tuft, or crowd into a delicious cluster. In some, the 
predominant stain softens by the gentlest diminutions, till 
it has even stolen away from itself: the eye is amused 
at the agreeable delusion ; and we wonder to find our- 
selves insensibly decoyed into a quite different lustre. 
In others, ye would think the fine tinges were emulous 
of pre-eminence. Disdaining to mingle, they confront 
one another with the resolution of rivals, determined to 
dispute the prize of beauty ; while each is improved by 
the opposition into the highest vivacity of complexion. 

How manifold are thy works,\ Lord ! multiplied 
even to a prodigy. Yet in wisdom, consummate wisdom, 
hast thou made them all. How I admire the vastness of 

* Nunc formosissimus annus. — Virgil. 

% Psalm civ. 24. 

13 



146 REFLECTIONS 



the contrivance, and the exactness of the execution 
Man, feeble man, with difficulty accomplishes a single 
work. Hardly, and after many efforts, does he arrive at 
a tolerable imitation of some one production of nature. 
But the Almighty Artist spoke millions of substances into 
instantaneous being, the whole collection wonderfully 
various, and each individual completely perfect. Re- 
peated experiments generally, I might say, always dis- 
cover errors or defects in our happiest inventions. Nay, 
what wins our approbation at the present hour, or in 
this particular place, is very probably, in some remote 
period, or some distant clime, treated with contempt. 
Whereas, these fine structures have pleased every taste, 
in every country, for almost six thousand years. Nor 
has any fault been detected in the original plan, nor any 
room left for the least improvement upon the first model.* 
All our performances, the more minutely they are scanned, 
the more imperfect they appear. With regard to these 
delicate objects, the more we search into their properties, 
the more we are ravished with their graces. They are 
sure to disclose fresh strokes of the most masterly skill, 
in proportion to the attention with which they are ex- 
amined. 

Nor is the simplicity of the operation less astonishing 
than the accuracy of the workmanship or the infinitude 
of the effects. Should you ask, " Where and what are 
the materials which beautify the blooming world ? What 
rich tints, what splendid dyes, what stores of shining 
crayons, stand by the Heavenly Limner when. he paints 
the robe of nature ?" 5 Tis answered, His powerful 
pencil needs no such costly apparatus. A single princi- 
ple, under his conducting hand, branches out into an 
immensity of the most varied and most finished forms. 
The moisture of the earth and of the circumambient air, 
passed through proper strainers, and disposed in a range of 
pellucid tubes ; this performs all the wonders, and pro- 
duces all the beauties of vegetation. This creeps along 

* EccL iii. 14. — I know that whatsoever God doth, it shall be for 
ever; nothing can be put to it, nor any thing taken from it. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 147 



the fibres of the low-spread moss, and climbs to the very- 
tops of the lofty-waving cedars. This attracted by the 
root, and circulating through invisible canals ; this bursts 
into gems, expands itself into leaves, and clothes the 
forest with all its verdant honors. This one plain and 
simple cause gives birth to all the charms which deck 
the youth and maturity of the year.* This blushes in the 
early hepatica, and flames in the late advancing poppy. 
This reddens into blood in the veins of the mulberry, and 
attenuates itself into leafen gold, to create a covering for 
the. quince. This breathes in all the fragrant gales of our 
garden, and weeps odorous gum in the groves of Arabia. 
So wonderful is our Creator in counsel, and so excellent 
in working !\ 

In a grove of tulips, or a knot of pinks, one perceives 
a difference in almost every individual. Scarce any two 
are turned and tinctured exactly alike. Each allows 
himself a little particularity in his dress, though all be- 
long to one family : so that they are various, and yet the 
same. A pretty emblem this, of the smaller differences 
between Protestant Christians. There are modes in re- 
ligion which admit of variations, without prejudice to 
sound faith or real holiness ; just as the drapery on these 
pictures of the spring may be formed after a variety of 
patterns, without blemishing their beauty or altering 
their nature. Be it so then, that in some points of incon- 
siderable consequence several of our brethren dissent ; 
yet let us all live amicably and sociably together, for we 
harmonize in principals, though we vary in punctilios. 
Let us join in conversation, and intermingle interests ; 
discover no estrangement of behavior, and cherish no 
alienation of affection. If any strife subsists, let it be to 

* When every several effect has a particular separate cause, this 
gives no pleasure to the spectator, as not discovering contrivance. 
But that work is beheld r*ith admiration and delight, as the result 
of deep counsel, which is complicated in its parts, and yet simple in 
its operations $ where a great variety of effects are seen to arise from 
one principle operating uniformly. 

Abernethy on the Attributes. 

f Is a. xxviii. 29. 



148 REFLECTIONS 



follow our divine Master most closely in humility of 
heart and unblamableness of life : let it be to serve one 
another most readily in all the kind offices of a cordial 
friendship. Thus shall we be united, though distinguish- 
ed ; united in the same grand fundamentals, though dis- 
tinguished by some small circumstantials ; united in one 
important bond of brotherly love, though distinguished 
by some slighter peculiarities of sentiment. 

Between Christians, whose judgments disagree only 
about a form of prayer or manner of worship, I appre- 
hend there is no more essential difference than between 
flowers which bloom from the same kind of seed, but 
happen to be somewhat diversified in the mixture of 
their colors. Whereas if one denies the divinity of our 
Lord Jesus Christ, and degrades the incarnate God to 
the meanness of a mere creature ; if another cries up the 
worthiness of human works, and depreciates the alone- 
meritorious righteousness of the glorious Mediator ; if a 
third addresses the incommunicable honors to a finite 
being, and bows to the image, or prays to the saint — 
these are errors extremely derogatory to the Redeemer's 
dignity, and not a little prejudical to the comfort of his 
people. Against these to remonstrate, against these to 
urge every argument and use every dissuasive, bespeaks 
not the censorious bigot, but the friend of truth and the 
lover of mankind. Whereas, to stand neuter and silent 
while such principles are propagated, would be an in- 
stance of criminal remissness rather than of Christian 
moderation. For the persons, we will not fail to main- 
tain a tender compassion ; we will not cease to put up 
earnest intercessions ; we will also acknowledge and love 
whatever is excellent and amiable in their character: 
yet we dare not subscribe their creed : we cannot remit 
our assiduous but kind endeavors, if by any means we 
may reconcile them to a more Scriptural belief and a 
purer worship.* 

* In some former editions, I expressed myself on this point unwa- 
rily and harshly. But my meaning and real sentiments were no 
other than those represented above. The reader, from such un- 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 149 

Another circumstance recommending and endearing 
the flowery creation, is their regular succession. They 
make not their appearance all at once, but in an orderly 
rotation. While a proper number of these obliging re- 
tainers are in waiting, the others abscond ; but hold 
themselves in a posture of service, ready to take their 
turn, and fill each his respective station the instant it 
becomes vacant. The snowdrop, foremost of the lovely 
train, breaks her way through the frozen soil, in order 
to present her early compliments to her lord : dressed in 
the robe of innocency, she steps forth, fearless of danger, 
long before the trees have ventured to unfold their 
leaves, even while the icicles are pendent on our 
houses. Next peeps out the crocus ; but cautiously, and 
with an air of timidity. She hears the howling blasts, 
and skulks close to her low situation. Afraid she seems 
to make large excursions from her root, while so many 
ruffian winds are abroad, and scouring along the ether. 
Nor is the violet last in this shining embassy of the year ; 
w T hich, with all the embellishments that would grace a 
royal garden, condescends to line our hedges, and grow 
at the feet of briers. Freely, and without any solicita- 
tion, she distributes the bounty of her emissive sweets ; 
while herself, with an exemplary humility, retires from 
sight, seeking rather to administer pleasure than to win 
admiration* — emblem, expressive emblem, of those 
modest virtues, which delight to bloom in obscurity, 
which extend a cheering influence to multitudes who 
are scarce acquainted with the source of their comforts ! 
motive, engaging motive, to that ever active beneficence, 
which stays not for the importunity of the distressed, but 
anticipates their suit, and prevents them with the bless- 

guarded intimations, might too naturally be led to conclude, that the 
author avows, and would stir up, a spirit of persecution. But this 
is a method of dealing with opponents in religious doctrines, which 
he disclaims as absurd, and abhors as iniquitous. He is for no 
force, but that of rational conviction ; for no constraint, but that of 
affectionate persuasion. Thus y if you please, compel them to come in 
— Luke, xiv. 23. 

* Prodesse quam conspici. 

13* 



150 REFLECTIONS 



ings of its goodness ! The poor polyanthus, that lately 
adorned the border with her sparkling beauties, and, 
transplanted into our windows, gave us a fresh enter- 
tainment, is now no more. I saw her complexion fade, 
I perceived her breath decay, till at length she expired, 
and dropped into her grave. Scarce have we sustained 
this loss, but in comes the auricula, and more than re- 
trieves it. Arrayed she comes, in a splendid variety of 
amiable forms ; with an eye of crystal, and garments of 
the most glossy satin ; exhaling perfume, and powdered 
with silver. A very distinguished procession this ! the 
favorite care of the florist ! Scarce one among them 
but is dignified with a character of renown, or has the 
honor to represent some celebrated toast. But these 
also, notwithstanding their illustrious titles, have ex- 
hausted their whole stock of fragrance, and are mingled 
with the meanest dust. Who could forbear grieving 
at their departure, did not the tulips begin to raise them- 
selves on their fine wands or stately stalks ? They flush 
the parterre with one of the gayest dresses that bloom- 
ing nature wears. Did ever beau or belle make so gaudy 
an appearance in a birthnight suit ? Here one may be- 
hold the innocent wantonness of beauty. Here she 
indulges a thousand freaks, and sports herself in the 
most charming diversity of colors. Yet I should wrong 
her were I to call her a coquette, because she plays her 
lovely changes, not to enkindle dissolute affections, but 
to display her Creator's glory. Soon arises the anemone, 
encircled at the bottom with a spreading robe, and 
rounded at the top into a beautiful dome. In its loosely- 
flowing mantle, you may observe a noble negligence ; 
in its gently-bending tufts, the nicest symmetry. I 
would term it the fine gentleman of the garden, because 
it seems to have learned the singular address of uniting 
simplicity with refinement, of reconciling art and ease. 
The same month has the merit of producing the ranun- 
culus. All bold and graceful, it expands the riches of 
its foliage, and acquires by degrees the loveliest enamel 
in the world. As persons of intrinsic worth disdain the 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 151 

superficial arts of recommendation practised by fops, so 
this lordly flower scorns to borrow any of its excellence 
from powders and essences. It needs no such attractives 
to render it the darling of the curious, being sufficiently 
engaging from the elegance of its figure, the radiant 
variety of its tinges, and a certain superior dignity of 
aspect. Methinks, nature improves in her operations. 
Her latest strokes are most masterly. To crown the 
collection she introduces the carnation, which captivates 
every eye with a noble spread of graces, and charms 
another sense with a profusion of exquisite odors. This 
single flower has centered in itself the perfections of all 
the preceding. The moment it appears, it so commands 
our attention that we scarce regret the absence of the 
rest. The gillyflower, like a real friend, attends you 
through all the vicissitudes and alterations of the season: 
while others make a transient visit only ; this is rather 
an inhabitant than a guest in your gardens ; adds fidelity 
to complaisance. 

It is in vain to attempt a catalogue of these amiable 
gifts. There is an endless multiplicity in their charac- 
ters, yet an invariable order in their approaches. Every 
month, almost every week, has its peculiar ornaments ; 
not servilely copying the works of its predecessor, but 
forming, still forming, and still executing, some new 
design. So lavish is the fancy, yet so exact is the pro- 
cess, of nature. 

Here let me stand a while to contemplate the distribu- 
tion of flowers through the several periods of the year. 
Were they all to blossom together, there would be at 
once a promiscuous throng, and at once a total privation. 
We should scarce have an opportunity of adverting to 
the dainty qualities of half, and must soon lose the agree- 
able company of them all. But now, since every species 
has a separate post to occupy, and a distinct interval for 
appearing, we can take a leisurely and minute survey 
of each succeeding set. We can view and review their 
forms, enter into a more intimate acquaintance with 
their charming accomplishments, and receive all those 



152 REFLECTIONS 



pleasing services which they are commissioned to yield. 
This remarkable piece of economy is productive of 
another very valuable effect : it not only places, in the 
most advantageous light, every particular community, 
but is also a sure provisionary resource against the frailty 
of the whole nation : or, to speak more truly, it renders 
the flowery tribes a sort of immortal corps.* For though 
some are continually dropping, yet by this expedient 
others are as continually rising, to beautify our borders, 
and prolong the entertainment. 

What goodness is this, to provide such a series of gra- 
tifications for mankind ! both to diversify, and per- 
petuate, the fine collation! to take care that our paths 
should be in a manner incessantly strewed with flowers! 
And what wisdom, to bid every one of these insensible 
beings know the precise juncture for their coming forth! 
insomuch that no actor on the stage can be more exact 
in performing his part, can make a more regular entry, 
or a more punctual exit. 

Who emboldens the daffodil to venture abroad in 
February, and to trust her flowering gold with inclement 
and treacherous skies ? Who informs the various tribes 
of fruit-bearing blossoms, that vernal suns and a more 
genial warmth are fittest for their delicate texture ? Who 
teaches the clove to stay till hotter beams are prepared, 
to infuse a spicy richness into her odors, and tincture 
her complexion with the deepest crimson! Who dis- 
poses these beautiful troops into such orderly bodies ; 
retarding some, and accelerating others ? Who has in- 
structed them to file off with such perfect regularity, as 
soon as the duty of their respective station is over? And, 
when one detachment retires, who gives the signal for 
another immediately to advance } Who, but that unerr- 
ing Providence, which, from the highest thrones of 

* In allusion to the celebrated practice of the Persian kings, " who 
maintained for their lifeguard, a body of troops, called immortal, 
because it perpetually subsisted: for as soon as any of the men 
died, another was immediately put into his place." — Rollin's An- 
cient History. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 153 

angels to the very lowest degrees of existence, orders 
all things in " number, weight, and measure !" 

These, my soul, are the regulations of that most 
adorable, that most beneficent Being, who bowed the 
heavens, came down to dwell on earth, and united the 
frailty of thy mortal nature to all the glories of his God- 
head. All the honor of this admirable establishment 
belongs to thy Ransom, thy Surety, thy Saviour. To 
Him it belongs, who sustained the vengeance which thou 
hadst deserved and wast doomed to suffer ; who fulfilled 
the obedience which thou wast obliged, but unable to 
perform ; and who humbled himself (stupendous, in- 
effable loving kindness!) humbled himself to death, even 
the death of the cross. He formed this vast machine, 
and adjusted its nice dependencies. The pillars that 
support it, the embellishments that adorn it, and the 
laws that govern it, are the result of his unsearchable 
counsels. ! the heights of his majesty, and the depths 
of his abasement! 

Which shall we admire most, his essential greatness, 
or his free grace ? He created the exalted seraph that 
sings in glory ; and every the minutest insect that flutters 
in air or crawls in dust. He marks out a path for all 
those globes of light which travel the circuit of the skies, 
and disdains not to rear the violet from its lowly bed, or 
to plait the daisy which dresses our plains. So grand 
are his operations, yet so condescending his regards ! If 
summer, like a sparkling bride, is brilliant and glorious 
in her apparel, what is this but a feeble reflection of his 
uncreated effulgence ? If autumn, like a munificent 
host, opens her stores, and gives us all things richly to 
enjoy, what is this but a little taste of his inexhaustible 
liberality } If thunders roar, you hear the sound of his 
trumpet : if lightnings glare, you see the launching of 
his glittering spear: " if the perpetual hills be scattered, 
and the everlasting mountains bow r ed," you behold a 
display — no, says the prophet, you have rather the hiding 
of his power * So immense is his power, so uncon- 

* Hab. iii. 4. — Nothing can be more magnificently conceived than 



154 REFLECTIONS 



trolable and inconceivable, that all these mighty works 
are but a sketch, in which more is concealed than dis- 
covered. 

Thus, I think, we should always view the visible sys- 
tem, with an evangelical telescope (if I may be allowed 
the expression), and with an evangelical microscope, re- 
garding Christ Jesus as the great projector and architect 
who planned and executed the amazing scheme. What- 
ever is magnificent or valuable, tremendous or amiable, 
should ever be ascribed to the Redeemer. This is the 
Christian's natural philosophy. With regard to this 
method of considering the things that are seen, we have 
an inspired apostle for our preceptor and precedent. 
Speaking of Christ, he says, " Thou, Lord, in the be- 
ginning hast laid the foundation of the earth ; and the 
heavens are the work of thy hands." Did we carefully 
attend to this leading principle in all our examinations 

the imagery of this whole chapter : and upon the foot of our inter- 
pretation, nothing was ever more delicately and nobly turned than 
the sentiment of this clause. Other senses of the passage, I aknow- 
ledge, may be assigned with equal propriety ; but none, I think, can 
be imagined so majestic and sublime. As the original will fairly 
admit of it, as it carries no disagreement with the context, and ex- 
presses a most important as well as undoubted truth, I hope 1 may 
be permitted to use it, at least by way of accommodation ; especially 
as it suggests one of the finest mottos imaginable, wherewith to in- 
scribe all the visible productions of the Creator's hand. When, struck 
with astonishment, we consider their grandeur, beauty, and consum- 
mate perfections, let us, in justice to their Author, apply the exalted 
reflection of this sacred ode : " In all these is the hiding rather than 
an adequate display of his matchless power. Though they challenge 
our praise, and surpass our comprehension, yet they are by no means 
the utmost exertions, but rather some slighter essays, of omnipotent 
skill.'" Milton, relating the overthrow of the fallen angels, intro- 
duces a grand circumstance, not much unlike the preceding. Mes- 
siah, unaided and alone, had routed an innumerable host of apostate 
spirits. This was great and marvellous. But to create a juster idea 
of the illustrious Conqueror, our poet beautifully adds, 

Yet half his strength he put not forth. 

If we forget to make the same remark when we contemplate God 
in his works, we must necessarily form very scanty conceptions of 
that Supreme Being, before whom all nations are as a " drop of a 
bucket, and are counted as the small dust )f the balance." 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 155 



of nature, it would doubtless be a most powerful means 
of enkindling our love, and strengthening our faith. * 
When I look round upon millions of noble substances, 
and carry with me this transporting reflection, " The 
Maker of them all expired on a cross for me ;" how can 
I remain any longer indifferent ? Must not the coldest 
heart begin to glow with gratitude ? When I survey an 
immensity of the finest productions imaginable, and re- 
member that the author of them all is my " righteous- 
ness and my redemption ;" how can I choose but repose 
the most cheerful confidence in such a Mediator ? 

Let me add one more remark upon the admirable ad- 
justment of every particular relating to these fine colonies 
planted in the parterre. With such accuracy and cor- 
rectness is their structure finished, that any the least 
conceivable alteration would very much impair their 

* The apostles, I observe, delighted to use this method of display- 
ing the honors of the Redeemer, and establishing the faith of his 
people. The beloved disciple, teaching that most precious doctrine, 
" of a Lamb slain to take away the sins of the world," in order to 
evince the sufficiency of Christ's sacrifice for this blessed purpose, 
affirms, that all things were made by him : and without him was not 
any thing, no, not so much as one single being, made, John i. 3. St. 
Paul, preaching the same glad tidings to the Colossians, and expressly 
maintaining that we have redemption through his blood, seems to 
foresee an objection of this kind : " To expiate transgressions against 
an Infinite Majesty is a most prodigious act. It must cost vastly 
more than any common surety can pay, to redeem a sinful world. 
What reason have we to believe, that Jesus is equal to this mighty 
undertaking'?" All possible reason, replies the apostle, from the 
dignity of his person, for he is the image of the invisible God ; and 
from the greatness of his works, for by him all things were made. 
Consider the operations of his hands, and you cannot doubt the 
atoning efficacy of his death, Col. i. 15, 16. The author of the 
Epistle to the Hebrews falls exactly into the same train of arguing. 
Declaring that Christ Jesus has purged our sins by the sacrifice of 
himself, he proves his ample ability for this tremendous office from 
his essential excellence, because he is the brightness of his Father s 
glory ; and from his admirable rvorks, because he made the worlds, 
and upholdeth all things by the worL of his power, Heb. i. 2, 3. Which 
truth, as it is so important in itself, b/ such signal comfort to Chris- 
tians, and so particularly insisted on b, the inspired writers, I hope 
I shall need no apology for an attempv to illustrate and enforce 
it in a kind of evangelical descant upon Creation annexed to these 
reflections. 



X56 REFLECTIONS 



perfection. Should you see, for instance, the nice dis- 
position of the tulip* } s attire fly abroad, disorderly and 
irregular, like the flaunting woodbine ; should the jessa- 
mine rear her diminutive head on those grand columns 
which support the hollyhock : should the erect and manly 
aspect of the piony hang down with a pensive air, like 
the flexile bells of the hyacinth; should that noble plain- 
ness which distinguishes the lily be exchanged for glit- 
tering fringes which edge the pink, or the gaudy stains 
which bedrop the iris: should those tapering pillars 
which arise in the middle of its vase, and, tipped with 
golden pendants, give such a lustre to the surrounding 
pannels of alabaster — should those sink and disappear, 
like the chives which cover the heart of the anemone ; 
in many of these cases, would not the transposition be 
fantastical and awkward ? in all, to the apparent prejudice 
of every individual ? 

Again, with regard to the time of their appearing, this 
circumstance is settled by a remarkable foresight and 
precaution. What would become of the sailor, if in very 
stormy weather he should raise a lofty mast, and crowd 
it with all his canvass? Such should be the ill effect, 
if the most stately species of flowers should presume to 
come abroad in the blustering months. Ah ! how would 
they rue the imprudent boldness ! Therefore those only 
that shoot the shortest stems, and display the smallest 
spread of leaves, or (if you please) carry the least sail, 
are launched amidst the blowing seasons. How injudi- 
ciously would the perfumer act, if he should unseal his 
finest essences, and expose them to the northern winds or 
wintry rains ! Our blooming artists of the aromatic profes- 
sion, at least the most delicate among them, seem perfectly 
aware of the consequences of such a procedure. Accord- 
ingly, they postpone the opening of their odoriferous 
treasures, till a serener air, and more unclouded skies, 
grant a protection to their amiable traffic ; till they are 
under no more apprehensions of having their spicy cells 
rifled by rude blasts, or drowned in incessant showers.* 

* Casimir, in a very poetical manner, addresses himself to the 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. J5 

What a striking argument is here for resignation^ un- 
feigned resignation, to all the disposals of Providence! 
Too often aie our dissatisfied thoughts apt to find fault 
with divine dispensations. We tacitly arraign our 
Maker's conduct, or question his kindness with regard 
to ourselves. We fancy our lot not so commodiously 
situated, or our condition not so happily circumstanced, 
as if we had been placed in some other station of life. 
But let us behold this exquisitely nice regulation of the 
minutest plants, and be ashamed of our repining folly. 
Could any fibre in their composition be altered, or one 
line in their features be transposed, without clouding 
some of their beauties ? Could any fold in their vest- 
ments be varied, or any link in their orderly succession 
be broken, without injuring some delicate property? 
And does not that All-seeing Eye, which preserves so 
exact an harmony among these petty toys, maintain as 
watchful a care over his rational creatures ? Does he 
choose the properest season for the cowslip to arise and 

dormant rose ; and most prettily invites her to venture abroad by the 
mention of these two circumstances : 

Siderum sacros imitata vultus, 

Quid lates dudum, rosa ? Delicatum 

Effer e terris caput, tepentis 

Filia coeli. 

Jam tibi imbes fugiunt aquosae, 
Quas fugant albis Zephyri quadrigis : 
Jam tibi mulcet Boream jocantis 

Aura Favoni, 

Child of the summer, charming rose 

No longer in confinement lie; 
Arise to light, thy form disclose, 

Rival the spangles of the sky. 

The rains are gone, the storms are o'er, 

Winter retires to make thee way : 
Come then, thou sweetly blushing flow'r, 

Come, lovely stranger, come away. 

The sun is dress'd in beaming smiles, 

To give thy beauties to the day: 
Young Zephyrs wait, with gentlest gales 

To fan thy bosom as they play. 

14 



?158 REFLECTIONS 



drink the dews, and can he neglect the concerns, or mis- 
judge the conveniences, of his sons and daughters? 
He, who has so completely disposed whatever pertains 
to the vegetable economy, that the least diminution or 
addition would certainly hurt the finished scheme, does, 
without all peradventure, preside with equal attention 
over the interests of his own people. 

Be still, then, thou uneasy mortal ;* know that God is 
unerringly wise ; and be assured that, amidst the greatest 
multiplicity of beings, he does not overlook thee. Thy 
Saviour has given me authority to assert, that thou art 
of far superior value, in the estimate of Omnipotence, 
than all the herbage of the field. If his sacred will 
ordains sickness for thy portion, never dare to imagine 
that uninterrupted health would be more advantageous. 
If he pleases to withhold or take away children, never 
presume to conclude that thy happiness is blasted, be- 
cause thy hopes of an increasing family are disappointed. 
He that marshals all the starry host, and so accurately 
arranges every the meanest species of herbs, he orders 
all the peculiarities , all the changes of thy state, with a 
vigilance that nothing can elude, with goodness that en- 
dureth for ever. Bow thy head, therefore, in humble 



Permittas ipsis expendere numinibus, quid 
Conveniat nobis, rebusque sit utile nostris. 
Nam pro jucundis aptissima quoeque dabunt dii: 
Carior est illis homo, quam sibi. — Juv. 

Since all the downward tracts of time 

God's watchful eye surveys ; 
O ! who so wise to choose our lot, 

And regulate our ways 1 

Since none can doubt his equal love, 

Unmeasurably kind ; 
To his unerring, gracious will 

Be ev'ry wish resign M. 

Good when he gives, supremely good, 

Nor less when he denies : 
E'en crosses, from his sov'reign hand, 

Are blessings in disguise. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 159 



acquiescence. Rest satisfied, that whatever is by the 
appointment of Heaven, is right* is best. 

Among all the productions of the third creating-day, 
this of flowers seems to be peculiarly designed for man. 
Man has the monopoly of this favor : it is conferred on 
him by a sort of exclusive charter. See the imperial 
crown, splendid and beautifully grand ! See the tuberose, 
delicate and languishingly fair ! See all the pomp and 
glory of the parterre, where paint and perfume do 
wonders. Yet the inferior animals are neither smit with 
their beauties, nor regaled with their odors. The horse 
never stands still to gaze upon their charms, nor does 
the ox turn aside to browse upon their sweets. Senses 
they have to discern these curious objects in their, gross, 
but no taste to distinguish or relish their fine accomplish- 
ments. Just so, carnal and unenlightened men may under- 
stand the literal meaning of Scripture, may comprehend 
the evidences of its divine inspiration ; yet have no 
ardent longing for the spiritual blessings it offers, see 
" no form or comeliness" in the Saviour it describes, so 
as to render him the supreme desire of their souls. 

* Whatever is, is right, — If Mr. Pope understands the maxim 
according to the limitation suggested above, he speaks a most unde- 
niable and glorious truth. But if that great poet includes whatever 
comes to pass through the wild and extravagant passions of men, 
surely no thinking person, at least no Christian, can accede to his 
opinion. — What God orders, is wise beyond all possibility of correc- 
tion ; and good, above all that we can ask or think. Kis decrees are 
the result of infinite discernment, and his dispensations the issues 
of unbounded benevolence. But man, fallen man, is hurried away 
by his lusts into a thousand irregularities, which are deplorably evil 
in themselves, and attended with consequences manifestly pernicious 
to society. Let the sentiment, therefore, be restrained to the dis- 
posals of Heaven, and I most readily subscribe it. But if it be 
extended to the conduct of men, and the effects of their folly, I think 
myself obliged to enter my protest against it. For whatever kindles 
the divine indignation — is cause of final ruin to the author, is 
strictly forbidden by God's holy word, is contrary to the whole 
design of his revealed will, and the very reverse of his essential 
attributes, — this cannot possibly be right, this is most undoubtedly 
wrong. Omnipotence, indeed, can over-rule it, and educe good 
from it. But the very notion of overruling supposes it to be abso- 
lutely wro-ag in itself. 



160 REFLECTIONS 



The chief end of these beautiful appearances, philoso- 
phers say, is to unfold and cherish the embryo seed, or 
to swathe the tender body during its infant state. But 
whatever is the chief end of nature, 'tis certain she 
never departs from the design of administering delight 
to mankind.* This is inseparately connected with her 
other views. Were it only to secure a reproductive 
principle, what need of such elegant complications ? Why 
so much art employed, and so many decorations added ? 
Why should vestments be prepared richer than brocades, 
more delicate than lawns, and of a finer glow than the 
most admired velvets ? If the great mother had no other 
aim than barely to accommodate her little offspring, 
warm flannel or homely fustian would have served her 
turn ; served it full as well as the most sumptuous tissues, 
or all the furniture of the mercer's shop. 

Evident then it is, that flowers were endued with such 
enchanting graces for the pleasure of man. In pursuance 
of this original intention, they have always paid their 
court to the human race ; they still seem particularly 
solicitous of recommending themselves to our regard. 
The finest of each species crowd about our habitations, 
and are rarely to be seen at a distance from our abodes. 
They thrive under our cultivating hand and observing 
eye, but degenerate and pine away if unregarded by 
their lord. To win his attention, and deck his retreats, 
they hide their deformities under ground, and display 
nothing but the most graceful forms and engaging colors 
to his sight. To merit a farther degree of his esteem, 
the generality of them dispense a delightful perfume. 
What is still more obliging, they reserve their richest 



* We find that the most important parts in the vegetable world 
are those which are the most beautiful. These are the seeds by 
which the several races of plants are propagated and continued, and 
which are always lodged in flowers or blossoms. Nature seems to 
hide her principal design, and to be industrious in making the earth 
gay and delightful, while she is carrying on her great work, and 
intent upon her own preservation. 

Spect. vol. v. No. 387. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 161 

exhalations to embalm his morning and evening walks.* 
Because he usually chooses those cool hours to recreate 
himself among their blooming ranks, therefore at those 
hours they are most lavish of their fragrance, and breathe 
out their choicest spirits. 

O man, greatly beloved by thy Creator! the darling 
of Providence ! thou art distinguished by his goodness ; 
distinguish thyself also by thy gratitude. Be it thy one 
undivided aim to glorify Him who has been at so much 
expense to gratify thee ! While ail these inferior crea- 
tures, in silent eloquence, declare the glory of God, do 
thou lend them thy tongue. Be thou the high priest of 
the mute creation. Let their praises become vocal in 
thy songs. Adore the Supreme Benefactor for the 
blessings he showers down upon every order of beings. 
Adore him for numberless mercies which are appro- 
priated to thyself. But, above all, adore him for that 
noble gift of a rational and immortal soul. This con- 
stitutes us masters of the globe, and gives us the real 
enjoyment of its riches : this discovers ten thousand 
beauties, which otherwise had been lost, and renders 
them both a source of delight and a nursery of devotion. 
By virtue of this exalted principle, we are qualified to 
admire our Maker's works, and capable of bearing his 
illustrious image ; bearing his illustrious image, not only 
when these ornaments of the ground have resigned their 
honors, but when the great origin of day is extinguished 
in the skies, and all the flaming orbs on high are put out 
in obscure darkness. Then to survive, to survive the ruins 
of one world, and to enjoy God — to resemble God — to 
be " filled with all the fullness of God," in another — 

■ The flow'rs, 



That open now their choicest bosom'd smells, 
Reserv'd from night, and kept for thee in store, 

Milton. 
The twining jasmine and the blushing rose 
With lavish grace their morning scents disclose ; 
The smelling tub'rose and jonquil declare 
The stronger impulse of an evning air. 

Prior's Sol. 



[02 REFLECTIONS 



what a happiness, what an inestimable happiness, is 
this ! Yet this is thy privilege, (barter it not, for trifles 
of an hour!) this thy glorious prerogative, man! 

! the goodness, the exuberant goodness, of our God ! 
I cannot forbear celebrating it once more, before I pass 
to another consideration. How much should we think 
ourselves obliged to a generous friend, who should build 
a stately edifice purely for our abode !* But how greatly 

* I cannot persuade mj^self, that the comparison is stretched bo. 
yond proper bounds when carried to this pitch. It is my stedfast 
opinion, that the world, at least this lower world, with its various 
appurtenances, was intended purely for man: that is appropriated to 
him ; and that he (in subordination to God's glory) is the end of its 
creation. Other animals, it is true, partake of the Creator's benefits : 
but then they partake under the notion of man's domestics, or on the 
foot of retainers to him ; as creatures, which bear some relation to 
his service, and some way or other contribute to his good. So that 
still he is the centre of the whole; or, as our incomparable Milton, 
equally master of poetry and divinity, expresses himself, "All things 
live for man.'" — Par. Lost. 

Mr. Pope, in his Ethic Epistles, is pleased to explode this tenet, as 
the height of pride and a gross absurdity. For my part, I see no 
reason for such a charge. With all submission to so superior a 
genius, it seems very remote from pride to be duly sensible of 
favors vouchsafed; to contemplate them in all the extent of their 
munificence, and acknowledge them accordingly. I should rather 
imagine, that to contract their size, when they are immensely large ; 
to stint their number when they are altogether innumerable; that 
such a procedure savors more of insensibility than our hypothesis 
of presumption, and has more in it of ingratitude than that of arro- 
gance. 

And how can it be deemed an absurdity, to maintain that God 
gave us a world for our possession, when it is our duty to believe 
that he gave us his only Son for our propitiation ? Sure, it can be 
neither difficult nor extravagant to suppose, that he designed, the 
habitable globe, with its whole furniture, for our present use ; since 
he withheld not his holy child Jesus, but freely delivered him up for 
our final salvation. 

Upon the whole, I cannot but conclude, that the attempt of our 
famous poet is neither kind with regard to his fellow-creatures, ncr 
grateful with regard to his Creator; neither is his scheme in fact 
true. The attempt not kind with regard to man, because it robs him 
of one of the most delightful and ravishing contemplations imagin- 
able. To consider the great Author of existence as having me in 
his eye, when he formed universal nature ; as contriving all things 
with an immediate view to the exigences of my particular state ; 
and making them all in such a manner, as might be most conducive 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 163 

would the obligation be increased, if the hand that built 
should also furnish it! and not only furnish it with all that 
is commodious and comfortable, but ornament it also with 
whatever is splendid and delightful ! — this has our most 
indulgent Creator done, in a manner infinitely surpassing 
all we could wish or imagine. 

The earth is assigned us for a dwelling. The skies are 
stretched over us like a magnificent canopy, dyed in the 
purest azure ; and beautified, now with pictures of float- 
ing silver, now with colorings of reflected crimson. The 
grass is spread under us as a spacious carpet, wove with 
silken threads of green, and damasked with flowers of 
every hue. The sun, like a golden lamp, is hung out 

to my particular advantage ; this must occasion the strongest satis- 
factions, whenever I cast a glance on the objects that surround me. 
Not grateful with regard to God, because it has the most direct ten- 
dency to diminish our sense of his kindness, and by that means to 
throw a damp upon our gratitude. It teaches us to look upon our- 
selves, as almost lost among a crowd of other beings, or regarded 
only with an occasional and incidental beneficence, which must 
certainly weaken the disposition and indeed slacken the ties to the 
most adoring thankfulness. To which I apprehend, we may justly 
add, neither is the scheme in fact true. For, not to mention what 
might be urged from the sure word of revelation, this one argument 
appears sufficiently conclusive. The world began with man ; the 
world must cease with man ; consequently, the grand use, the prin- 
cipal end of the world, is, to subserve the interest of man. It is on 
all sides agreed, that the edifice was erected when man was to be 
furnished with a habitation ; and that it will be demolished when 
man has no farther need of its accommodations. When he enters 
into the house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens, " the 
earth, and all the works that are therein, shall be burnt up." From 
which it seems a very obvious and fair deduction, that man is the 
final cause of this inferior creation. 

So that I think my readers and myself privileged (not to say, on 
the principles of gratitude, obliged) to use those lovely lines of our 
author, with a propriety and truth, equal to their elegance and 
beauty : 

For me kind Nature wakes her genial pow'r, 
Suckles each herb, and spreads out ev'ry flow'r ! 
Annual, for me, the grape, the rose renew 
The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew; 
For me, the mine a thousand treasures brings; 
For me, health gushes from a thousand springs. 

Eth. Epis. I. v. 129. 



164 REFLECTIONS 



in the ethereal vault ; and pours his effulgence all the 
day to lighten our paths. When night approaches, the 
moon takes up the friendly office ; and the stars are 
kindled in twinkling myriads, to cheer the darkness with 
their milder lustre, not disturb our repose by too intense 
a glare. The clouds, besides the rich paintings they 
hang around the heavens, act the part of a shifting 
screen ; and defend us, by their seasonable interposition, 
from the scorching beams of summer. May we not also 
regard them as the great watering-pots of the globe ? 
w r hich, wafted on the wings of the wind, dispense their 
moisture* evenly through the universal garden ; and 
fructify, with their showers, whatever our hand plants. 
The fields are our exhaustless granary. The ocean is our 
vast reservoir. The animals spend their strength to dis- 
patch our business, resign their clothing to replenish our 
wardrobe, and surrender their very lives to provide for 
our tables. In short, every element is a storehouse of 
conveniences, every season brings us the choicest pro- 
ductions, all nature is our caterer ; and, which is a most 
endearing recommendation of these favors, they are all 
as lovely as they are useful. You observe nothing mean 



* This circumstance, amidst abundance of other delicate and 
edifying remarks upon the wonders of nature, is finely touched in 
the Philosophical Transactions recorded in the book of Job, chap, 
xxxviii. 25. — nSvD BOW 1 ! J^D 'D* Who hath divided a watercourse for 
the overflowing of waters ? The Hebrew is so pregnant and rich with 
sense, that no translation can do it justice. The following paraphrase, 
perhaps, may represent the principal ideas comprehended in the ex- 
pressive original : Who has branched out, and with admirable judg- 
ment disposed a variety of aqueducts, for that immense collection of 
waters which float in the sky? Who distributes those pendulous 
floods through all the borders of the earth ; distributes them, not in 
dreadful cataracts, or promiscuous gluts of rain, but in kindly drops 
and refreshing showers, with as mucli regularity and economy as if 
they were conveyed by pipes from a conduit P To whom shall we 
ascribe that niceness of contrivance, which now emits, now restrains 
them ; sometimes drives their humid train to one place, sometimes 
to another; dispenses them to this soil in larger, to that in smaller 
communications: and, in a word, so manages the mighty fluid, that 
every spot is supplied in exact proportion to its wants, none destroyed 
by an undistinguishing deluge ? 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 1(35 



or inelegant. All is clad in beauty's fairest robe,* and 
regulated by proportion's nicest rule. The whole scene 
exhibits a fund of pleasures to the imagination, at the 
same time that it more than supplies all our wants, f 

Therefore thou art inexcusable, man, whosoever thou 
art, that rebellest against thy Maker. He surrounds thee 
with unnumbered benefits, and follows thee with an 
effusion of the richest, noblest gifts. He courts thy 
affections, he solicits thy gratitude, by liberalities which 
are never intermitted, by a bounty which knows no 
limits. Most blessed Lord, let this thy goodness, thy 
unwearied goodness, lead us to repentance. Win us to 
thyself, thou Fountain of Felicity, by these sweet induce- 
ments. Draw us to our duty, thou God of our Salvation, 
by these " cords of love." 

What a living picture is here of the beneficial effects of 
industry ! By industry and cultivation this neat spot is 
an image of Eden. Here is all that can entertain the 
eye, or regale the smell. $ Whereas, without cultivation, 
this sweet garden had been a desolate wilderness. Vile 
thistles had made it loathsome, and tangling briers inac- 
cessible. Without cultivation it might have been a nest 
for serpents, and the horrid haunts of venomous creatures. 
But the spade and pruning-knife, in the hand of industry, 
have improved it into a sort of a terrestrial paradise. 

How naturally does this lead our contemplation to the 
advantages which flow from a virtuous education, and 
the miseries which ensue from the neglect of it ! || The 
mind, without early instruction, will in all probability 
become like the " vineyard of the sluggard :" if left to 

* Perhaps it was from such an observation, that the Greeks, those 
critical and refined judges of things, expressed the mundane system 
by a word which signifies beauty — Koafiog. 

j- Those several living creatures, which are made for our service 
or sustenance, at the same time either fill the woods with their 
music, furnish us with game, or raise pleasing ideas in us by the 
delightfulness of their appearance. Fountains, lakes, and rivers, 
are as refreshing to the imagination, as to the soil through which 
they pass. — Sfect. vol. v. No. 387. , 

i Omnis copia narium. — Horace. 

B Neglect is urenda Jilix innascitur agris, — Horace. 



166 REFLECTIONS 



the propensities of its own depraved will, what can we 
expect but the most luxuriant growth of unruly appe- 
tites, which in time will break forth into all manner of 
scandalous irregularities ? What, — but that anger ', like 
a prickly thorn, arm the temper with an untractable 
moroseness : peevishness, like a stinging nettle, render 
the conversation irksome and forbidding : avarice, like 
some choking weed, teach the fingers to gripe, and the 
hands to oppress : revenge, like some poisonous plant, 
replete with baneful juices, rankle in the breast, and 
meditate mischief to its neighbor : while unbridled lusts, 
like swarms of noisome insects, taint each rising thought, 
and render " every imagination of the heart only evil 
continually ?" Such are the usual products of savage 
nature ;. such the furniture of the uncultivated soul ! 

Whereas let the mind be put under the " nurture and 
admonition of the Lord :" let holy discipline clear the 
soil : let sacred instructions sow it with the best seed : 
let skill and vigilance dress the rising shoots, direct the 
young ideas how to spread, the wayward passions how 
to move ; then what a different state of the inner man 
will quickly take place ! Charity will breathe her sweets, 
and hope expand her blossoms ; the personal virtues dis- 
play their graces, and the social ones their fruits ;* the 
sentiments become generous, the carriage endearing, the 
life honorable and useful, f 

* This transformation of the heart and renewal of the life, are 
represented in Scripture by similitudes very nearly allied to the 
images used above. God, by his sanctifying Spirit, will make the 
soul as a watered garden. Under the operation of this divine prin- 
ciple, the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose, Wherever it 
exerts the refining and ennobling energy, instead of the thorn shall 
come up the fir tree, and instead of the brier, the myrtle tree. — Jer. xxxi. 
3 2. Isa. xxxv. 1.; lv. 13. 

j- A teneris assuescere tanti est / — Virgil. 

— — — ov yap fxiKpov Siacpepsi, to ovrwg r\ pvTOi$ ev9v$ sk vswv eOi&aQai, 
aX\a 7rafiTTo\v, paWou 6e to nav. — AmSTOTLE. 

The princples we imbibe, and the habits we contract, in our early 
years, are not matters of small moment, but of the utmost consequence 
imaginable. They not only give a transient or superficial tincture 
to our first appearance in life, but most commonly stamp the form 
of our whole future conduct, and even of our eternal state. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 167 

O f that governors of families and masters of schools 
would watch .with a conscientious solicitude over the 
morals of their tender charge ! What pity it is, that the 
advancing generation should lose these invaluable en- 
dowments through any supineness in their instructors ! 
See ! with what assiduity the curious Jlorist attends his 
little nursery ! He visits them early and late ; furnishes 
them with the properest mould ; supplies them with 
seasonable moisture ; guards them from the ravages of 
insects ; screens them from the injuries of the weather ; 
marks their springing buds ; observes them attentively 
through their w r hole progress ; and never intermits his 
anxiety till he beholds them blown into full perfection. 
And shall a range of painted leaves, which flourish to-day, 
and to-morrow fall to the ground — shall these be tended 
with more zealous application, than the exalted faculties 
of an immortal soul ? 

Yet trust not in cultivation alone. It is the blessing 
of the Almighty Husbandman, which imparts success to 
such labors of love. If God " seal up the bottles of 
heaven," and command the clouds to withhold their 
fatness, the best-manured plot becomes a barren desert. 
And if He restrain the dew of his heavenly benediction, 
all human endeavors miscarry ; the rational plantation 
languishes ; our most pregnant hopes, from youths of 
the most promising genius, prove abortive. Their root 
will be as rottenness, and their blossom will go up as 
dust* Therefore, let parents plant ; let tutors water ; 
but let both look up to the Father of spirits for the 
desired increase. 

On every side, I espy several budding flowers. As 
yet, they are like bales of cloth from the packer's ware- 
house : each is wrapped within a strong enclosure, and 
its contents are tied together by the firmest bandages ; 
so that all their beauties lie concealed, and all their 
sweets are locked up. Just such is the niggardly w T retch, 
whose aims are all turned inward, and meanly terminated 
upon himself; who makes his own private interests 01 
* Isa. v. 24. 



168 REFLECTIONS 



personal pleasures the sole centre of his designs, and the 
scanty circumference of his actions. 

Ere long the searching beams will open these silken 
folds, and draw them into a graceful expansion. Then, 
what a lovely blush will glow in their cheeks, and what 
a balmy odor exhale from their bosoms! So, when divine 
grace shines upon the mind, even the churl becomes 
bountiful ; the heart of stone is taken away, and a heart 
of flesh, a heart susceptible of the softest, most compas- 
sionate emotions, is introduced in its stead. ! how 
sweetly do the social affections dilate themselves under 
so benign an influence ? just like these disclosing gems, 
under the powerful eye of day. The tender regards are 
no longer confined to a single object; but extend them- 
selves into a generous concern for mankind, and shed 
liberal refreshments on all within their reach.* 

Arise then, thou Son of Righteousness ; arise, with 
healing under thy wings ; and transfuse thy gentle but 
penetrating ray through all our intellectual powers. 
Enlarge every narrow disposition, and fill us with a 
diffusive benevolence. Make room in our breasts for 
the whole human race ; and teach us to love all our fellow- 
creatures, for their amiable Creator's sake. May we be 
pleased with their excellencies, and rejoice in their hap- 
piness ; but feel their miseries as our own, and with a 
brother's sympathy hasten to relieve them ! 

Disposed at proper distances, I observe a range of 
strong and stately stalks. They stand like towers along 

* The prophet, describing the charitable temper, very beautifully 
says : " If thou draw out thy soul to the hungry." This, I think, may 
not improperly be illustrated by the circumstances observed above. 
The opening of those buds into a large and extensive spread, is a 
pretty portrait of the amplitude of a generous heart which cannot 
shut up its compassion, or remain unconcerned at any human cala- 
mity. The freeness and copiousness with which the expanded 
flowers are continually pouring out their choicest essences, may re- 
present the various acts of an unwearied liberality; together with 
those endearing words and that cordial affection which embalm., as 
it were, a gift, double its value, and constitute what the sacred pen 
man styles, drawing out the soul. *WD} iT S7"b deprompseris animam 
tuam. — Isa. Iviii. 10. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 169 

the walls of a fortified city, or rise like lofty spires 
amidst the group of houses. They part, at the top, into 
several pensile spiky pods, from each of which we shall 
soon see a fine figure displaying itself, rounded into a 
form which constitutes a perfect circle, spread wide open 
into the most frank and communicative air ; and tinged 
with the color which is so peculiarly captivating to the 
miser's eye. 

But the property I chiefly admire, is its passionate 
fondness for the sun. When the evening shades take 
place, the poor flower droops, and folds up its leaves. 
It mourns all the long night, and pines amidst the gloom, 
like some forlorn lover banished from the object of his 
affections. No sooner does Providence open " the eye- 
lids of the morning," but it meets and welcomes the 
returning light,* courts and caresses it all the day, nor 
ever loses sight of the refulgent charmer so long as he 
continues above the horizon ! In the morning, you may 
perceive it presenting a golden bosom to the east ; at 
noon, it points upward to the middle sky ; in the even- 
ing follows the same attractive influence to the west. 

Surely nature is a book, and every page rich with 
sacred hints. To an attentive mind the garden turns 
•preacher, and its blooming tenants are so many lively 
sermons. What an engaging pattern, and what an 
excellent lesson have we here ! — So let the redeemed 
of the Lord look unto Jesus ,f and be conformed to their 
Beloved. Let us all be heliotropes (if I may use the 
expression) to the Son of Righteousness ; let our passions 
rise and fall, take this course or that, as his word deter- 
mines, as his holy example guides; let us be so accom- 
modated both to his commanding and providential will, 
as the wax is turned to the imprinted seal ; or, as the 
aspect of this enamored flower, to the splendid star 
which creates our day. 

In every enjoyment, thou watchful Christian, look 

* — — Ilia suum, quamvis radice tenetur, 
Vertitur ad solem. Ovid. 

i f Heb. xii. 2. 

15 



170 REFLECTIONS 



unto Jesus ; receive it as proceeding from his love, and 
purchased by his agonies.* In every tribulation look 
unto Jesus ; mark his gracious hand, managing the 
scourge, or mingling the bitter cup ; attempering it to a 
proper degree of severity ; adjusting the time of its con- 
tinuance ; and ready to make these seeming disasters 
productive of real good. In every infirmity and failing, 
look unto Jesus, thy merciful high-priest, pleading his 
atoning blood, and making intercession for transgressors. 
In every prayer look unto Jesus, thy prevailing advo- 
cate, recommending thy devotions, and " bearing the 
iniquity of thy holy things."! I* 1 every temptation look 
unto Jesus, the author of thy strength, and captain of 
thy salvation ; who alone is able to lift up the hands 
which hang down, to invigorate the enfeebled knees, 
and make thee more than conqueror over all thy enemies. 
But especially, when the hour of thy departure ap- 
proaches ; when " thy flesh and thy heart fail ; when all 
the springs of life are irreparably breaking ; then look 
unto Jesus with a believing eye.f Like expiring Stephen, 
behold him standing at the right hand of God, on pur- 
pose to succor his people in this their last extremity. 
Yes, my Christian friends; when thy journey through 
life is finished, and thou art arrived on the very verge 
of mortality ; when thou art just launching out into the 
invisible world, and all before thee is vast eternity ; then, 
O then, be sure to look steadfastly unto Jesus! " See 
by faith the Lord's Christ." View him as the only way 
to the everlasting mansions, jj as the only door to the 
abodes of bliss. § 

Yonder tree, which faces the south, has something too 
remarkable to pass without observation. Like the fruit- 

* He sunk beneath our heavy woes, 
To raise us to his throne : 
There's not a gift his hand bestows, 
But cost his heart a groan. — Watts. 

f Exod. xxviii. 38. 

* Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth. — Isa. 
xlvr. 22. 

John, xiv. 6. § John, x. 9. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. yj\ 

fill though feeble vine, she brings forth a large family of 
branches ; but, unable to support them herself, commits 
them to the tuition of a sunny wall. As yet the tender 
twigs have scarce gemmed their future blossoms. How- 
ever, I may anticipate the well-known productions, and 
picture to myself the passion-flower ; which will in due 
time, w T ith a long and copious succession, adorn the 
boughs, 

I have read, in a Latin author, of flowers inscribed 
with the name of kings ;* but here is one, emblazoned 
with the marks of the bleeding Prince of life. I read in 
the inspired writings of apostolic men, who bore about 
in their bodies the dying of the Lord Jesus ;f but here is 
a blooming religioso, that carries apparent memorials of 
the same tremendous and fatal catastrophe. Who would 
have expected to find such a tragedy of woe, exhibited 
in a collection of the most delicate delights ? or to see 
Calvary* s horrid scene portrayed on the softest orna- 
ments of the garden ? Is nature then actuated by the 
noble ambition of paying commemorative honors to her 
agonizing Sovereign ? Is she kindly officious to remind 
forgetful mortals of that miracle of mercy, which it is their 
duty to contemplate, and their happiness to believe ? or 
is a sportive imagination my interpreter, and all the sup- 
posed resemblance no more than the precarious gloss of 
fancy ? Be it so ; yet even fancy has her merit, when 
she sets forth in such pleasing imagery the crucified 
Jesus ? Nor shall I refuse a willing regard to imagina- 
tion herself, when she employs her creative powers to 
revive the sense of such unparalleled love, and prompt 
my gratitude to so divine a friend. 

That spiral tendril, arising from the bottom of the 
stalk, is it a representation of the scourge which lashed 
the Redeemer's* unspotted flesh, and inflicted those 
stripes by which our souls are healed ? Or is it twisted 
for the cord which bound his hands in painful and igno- 

* Die, quibus in terris inscrlpti noraina regum 

nascanlur flores — Virgil. 

f 2 Cor iv. 10. 



172 REFLECTIONS 



minious confinement — those beneficent hands, which 
were incessantly stretched out to unloose the heavy 
burdens, and to impart blessings of every choice kind ? 
Behold the nails which were drenched in his sacred veins, 
and rivetted his feet to the accursed tree — those 
beautiful feet,* which always went about doing good, 
and travelled far and near to spread the glad tidings of 
everlasting salvation. See the hammer, ponderous and 
massy, which drove the rugged irons through the shiver- 
ing nerves, and forced a passage for those dreadful 
wedges between the dislocated bones. View the thorns 
which encircled our royal Master's brow, and shot their 
keen afflictive points into his blessed head. the 
smart! the racking smart! when, instead of the tri- 
umphal laurel, or the odoriferous garland, that pungent 
and ragged wreath w T as planted on the meek Messiah's 
forehead ! when violent and barbarous blows of the 
strong Eastern canef struck the prickly crown, and 
fixed every thorn in his throbbing temples! J There 
stand the disciples, ranged in the green impalement, and 
forming a circle round the instruments of their great 
Commander's death. They appear like so many faithful 

* How beautiful are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, 
that publisheth peace, that bringeth good tidings of good, that pub- 
lisheth salvation. — Isa. Hi. 7. 

-J- " They took the reed" says the sacred historian, "and smote him 
on the head; and so, as it were, nailed down the thorns into his fore- 
head and temples, and occasioned thereby exquisite pain, as well as 
a great effusion of blood." — Family Expositor, vol. ii. sect. 188. 

" It is most probable," adds the same judicious critic, " this was a 
walking staff which they put into his hand as a sceptre ; for a blow 
with a slight reed would scarce have been felt, or have deserved a 
mention in a detail of such dreadful sufferings." 

t The smart attending this unparalleled piece of contempt and 
barbarity, must be inexpressibly severe , not only on account of the 
many painful punctures made in the flesh, but principally because 
the periosteum, an exquisitely sensible tegument of the bones, lying, 
in those parts, very near the external skin, must receive a multitude 
of terrible wounds, the anguish of which could not fail of being 
inflamed to an excess of rage, by the continuance of so many thorny 
lancets in that extremely tender membrane ; which, in such a case, 

tremblingly alive all o'er, 

Must smart and agonise at every pore. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 173 

adherents, who breathe a gallant resolution, either of 
defending their Lord to. the last extremity, or of dropping 
honorably by his side. But did they give such proofs 
of zeal and fidelity in their conduct, as their steady pos- 
ture and determined aspect seem to promise ? Alas ! 
what is all human firmness, when destitute of succors 
from above, but an expiring vapor ? What is every 
saint, if unsupported by powerful grace, but an aban- 
doned traitor ? Observe the glory, delineated in 
double rays, grand with imperial purple, and rich with 
ethereal blue. But ah ! how incapable are threads, 
though spun by summer's finest hand, though dyed in 
snows, or dipped in heaven, to display the immaculate 
excellency of his human, or the ineffable majesty of his 
divine nature ! Compared with these sublime perfections, 
the most vivid assemblage of colors fades into an unmean- 
ing flatness ; the most charming effects of light and shade 
are not only mere daubings, but an absolute blank. 

Among all the beauties which shine in sunny robes, 
and sip the silver dews, this, I think, has the noblest 
import, if not the finest presence. Were they all to pass 
in review, and expect the award of superiority from my 
decision, I should not hesitate a moment. Be the prize 
assigned to this amiable candidate ; which has so emi- 
nently distinguished and so highly dignified herself, by 
bearing such a remarkable resemblance to " the righteous 
Branch ; the Plant of renown."* While others appoint 
it a place in the parterre, I would transplant the passion- 
flower, or rather transfer its sacred significancy, to my 
heart. There let it bloom, both in summer and in 
winter; bloom in the most impressive characters, and 
with an undecaying lustre : — that I may also wear — 
wear on my very soul, the traces of Immanuel, pierced 
for my sins, and bruised for my transgressions : that I 
also may be crucified with Christy at least in penitential 
remorse, and affectionate sympathy: that I may know 
the fellowship of his sufferings ;\ and feel all my evil 

* So the blessed Jesus is described. — Jer. xxiii. 5. Ezek. xxxiv. 29. 
f Gal. ii. 20. * Phil. iii. 10. 

15* 



174 REFLECTIONS 



affections wounded by his agonies, mortified by his 
death. 

There is another subject of the verdant kingdom, 
which, on account of its very uncommon qualities, de- 
mands my particular notice : one, so extremely diffident 
in her disposition, and delicate in her constitution, that 
she dares not venture herself abroad in the open air, but 
is nursed up in the warmth of a hot-bed, and lives 
cloistered in the cells of a green-house. But the most 
curious peculiarity is, that of all her kindred species, she 
alone partakes of perceptive life ; at least advances nearest 
to this more exalted state of being ; and may be looked 
upon as the link which connects the* animal and the 
vegetable world. A stranger, observing her motions, 
would almost be induced to suspect, that she is endued 
with some inferior degrees of consciousness and caution. 
For if you offer to handle this sensitive plant, she imme- 
diately takes an alarm ; hastily contracts her fibres ; and, 
like a person under apprehensions of violence, withdraws 
from your finger in a kind of precipitate disorder. Per- 
haps the beauty of her aspect might be sullied, or the 
niceness of her texture discomposed, by the humar 
touch. Therefore, like a coy virgin, she recedes from 
all unbecoming familiarities, and will admit no such 
improper, if not pernicious freedoms. 

Whatever be the cause of this unusual effect, it sug- 
gests an instructive admonition to the Christian. Such 
should be our apprehensive timorous care with regard 
to sin ; and all, even the most distant, approaches of 
vice. So should we avoid the very appearance of evil, 
and stand aloof from every occasion of falling. If 
sinners entice, if forbidden pleasures tempt ; or if oppor- 
tunity beckon, with the gain of injustice in her hand ; 
! turn from the gilded snare ; touch not the beauteous 
bane ; but fly, fly with haste, fly without any delay, from 
the bewitching ruin. Does anger draw near with her 
lighted torch, to kindle the flame of resentment in our 
breasts ? Does flattery ply our ears with her enchanting 
and intoxicating whispers ? Would discontent lay her 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 175 

leaden hand upon our temper, and mould into our minds 
her sour leaven, in order to make us a burden to our- 
selves and unamiable to others ? Instantly let us divert 
our attention from the dangerous objects ; and not so 
much endeavor to antidote, as to shun, the moral con- 
tagion, Let us revolve in our meditations that wonder- 
ful meekness of our distressed Master, which, amidst the 
most abusive and provoking insults, maintained an uni- 
form tenor of unshaken serenity. Let us contemplate 
that prodigious humiliation, which brought him, from an 
infinite height above all worlds, to make his bed in the 
dust of death. Let us soothe our jarring, our uneasy 
passions, with the remembrance of that cheerfulness and 
resignation, which rendered him, in the deepest poverty, 
unfeignedly thankful, and, under the heaviest tribula- 
tions, most submissively patient. 

Harbor not, on any consideration, the betrayer of your 
virtue. Be deaf, inflexibly deaf, to every beguiling 
solicitation. If it obtrude into the unguarded heart, give 
it not entertainment, no, not for a moment. To parley with 
the enemy, is to open a door for destruction. Our safety 
consists in flight ; and, in this case, suspicion is the truest 
prudence, fear the greatest bravery. Play not on the 
brink of the precipice. Flutter not round the edges of 
the flame. Dally not w T ith the stings of death : but 
reject, with a becoming mixture of solicitude and abhor- 
rence, the very first insinuations of iniquity, as cautiously 
as the smarting sore shrinks even from the softest hand ; 
as constantly as this jealous plant- recoils at the approach- 
ing touch.* 

* The prophet Isaiah, in an elegant and lively description of the 
upright man, says, He shaketh his hands from holding of bribes ; and, 
I may add, from practising any kind of iniquity. The image, ex- 
ceedingly beautiful and equally expressive, both illustrates and en- 
forces the doctrine of this whole section. Shaketh his hands : just 
as a person would do, who happens to have burning coals fall into 
his lap, or some venomous creature fastening upon Irs flesh. In such 
a case, none would stand a moment to consider 01 to debate with 
himself the expediency of the thing. He would instantly fling off the 
pernicious encumbrance, instantly endeavor to disengage himself 
from the clinging mischief. — Isa. xxxiii. 15. 



176 REFLECTIONS 



Not long ago, these curious productions of the spring 
were coarse and misshapen roots. Had we opened the 
earth, and beheld them in their seed, how uncouth and 
contemptible had their appearance been ! But now they 
are the best of nature ; the delight of the sons of men ; 
finished patterns for enamelling and embroidery, out- 
shining even the happiest strokes of the pencil. They 
are taught to bloom, but with a very inferior lustre, in 
the richest tapestries and most magnificent silks.* Art 
never attempts to equal their incomparable elegancies, 
but places all her merit in copying after these delicate 
originals. Even those who glitter in silver, or whose 
clothing is of wrought gold, are desirous to borrow addi- 
tional ornaments from a sprig of jasmine, or a little 
assemblage of pinks. 

What a fine idea may we form from hence of the 
resurrection of the just, and the state of their reanimated 
bodies ! As the roots even of our choicest flowers, when 
deposited in the ground, are rude and ungraceful, but 
when they spring up into blooming life are most elegant 
and splendid ; so the flesh of a saint, when committed 
to the dust, alas ! what is it ? A heap of corruption ; a 
mass of putrefying clay. But, when it obeys the great 
archangel's call, and starts into a new existence ; what 
an astonishing change ensues ! What a most ennobling 
improvement takes place ! That which was sown in 

I have represented the danger of not extinguishing immediately 
the very first sparks of temptation in a variety of views; because 
a proper behavior, in this conjuncture, is of such vast importance 
to the purity, the safety, and the comfort of our minds ; because I 
had the royal moralist in my eye, who, deterring his pupils from the 
path of the wicked, cries, with an air of deep concern, and in the 
language of vehement importunity, Avoid it ,• pass not by it ; 
turn from it, and pass away. How strongly is the counsel urged by 
being so frequently repeated in such a remarkable diversity of con- 
cise and abrupt, consequently of forcible and pressing admonitions ! 
—Prov. iv. 15. 

* The cowslip smiles, in brighter yellow drest, 
Than that which veils the nubile virgin's breast: 
A fairer red stands blushing in the rose, 
Than that which on the bridegroom's vestments flows. 

Prior's Sol. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 177 

weakness, is raised in all the vivacity of power. That 
which was sown in deformity, is raised in the bloom of 
celestial beauty. Exalted, refined, and glorified, it will 
shine " as the brightness of the firmament," when it 
darts the inimitable blue through the fleeces — the snowy 
fleeces of some cleaving cloud. 

Fear not then, thou faithful Christian ; fear not, at the 
appointed time, to descend into the tomb. Thy soul 
thou mayest trust with thy omnipotent Redeemer, who is 
Lord of the unseen world ; " who has the keys of hell, 
and of death." Most safely mayest thou trust thy better 
part in those beneficent hands which were pierced with 
nails, and fastened to the ignominious tree, for thy sal- 
vation. With regard to thy earthly tabernacle, be not 
dismayed. It is taken down only to be rebuilt upon a 
diviner plan, and in a more heavenly form. If it retires 
into the shadow of death, and lies immured in the gloom 
of the grave, it is only to return from a short confine- 
ment to endless liberty. If it falls into dissolution, it is 
in order to rise more illustrious from its ruins, and wear 
an infinitely brighter face of perfection and of glory. 

Having now made my panegyric, let me next take up 
a lamentation for these loveliest productions of the vege- 
table world. For I forsee their approaching doom. Yet 
a little while, and these pleasing scenes vanish. Yet a 
little while, and all the sweets of the breathing, all the 
beauties of the blooming spring, are no more. Every 
one of these amiable forms must be shrivelled to de- 
formity and trodden to the earth. Significant resem- 
blance this, of all created beauty. Ml flesh is grass ; 
like the green herbage, liable and prone to fade. Nay, 
all the goodliness thereof, its finest accomplishments, and 
what the world universally admires, is as the flower of the 
field ;* which loses its gloss, decays and perishes, more 
speedily than the grass itself. Behold then, ye brightest 
among the daughters of Eve ; behold yourselves in this 
glass. See the charms of your person eclipsed by the 
lustre of these little flowers ; and the frailty of your state 
* Isa. xl. 6. 



178 REFLECTIONS 



represented by their transient glories.* A fever may- 
scorch those polished veins ; a consumption may ema- 
ciate the dimpling cheeks ; and a load of unexpected 
sorrows depress those lively spirits. Or should these 
disasters, in pity, spare the tender frame ; yet age, 
inexorable age and wrinkles, will assuredly come at last; 
will wither all the fine features, and blast every sprightly 
grace. 

Then, ye fair , when those sparkling eyes are darkened, 
and sink in their orbs ; when they are rolling in agonies, 

* Kai to poSov Kakov eon, Kai o XP 0V0 $ av TO i^apaiveu 
Kai to iov koXov taTiv ev eiapi, kcu raxv yripa' 
AevKOv to Kptvov ean, papaiveTat aviica lriirnf 
A 6c xtwj/ \cvko, Kai raKcrai avina iraxBri* 
Kai KaWog koXov ioti to iraiducov, aXX o\tyov ^rj # 

The reader will excuse me, if I imitate, rather than translate, these 
lines from Theocritus ; If I vary one image, add another, and give a 
new turn to the whole, 

When snows descend, and robe the fields 

In winters bright array ; 
Touch'd by the sun, the lustre fades, 

And weeps itself away. 

When spring appears ; when violets blow, 

And shed a rich perfume ; 
How soon the fragrance breathes its last ! 

How short-liv'd is the bloom ! 

Fresh in the morn, the summer rose 

Hangs withering ere 'tis noon ; 
We scarce enjoy the balmy gift, 

But mourn the pleasure gone. 

With gliding fire, an evening star 

Streaks the autumnal skies ; 
Shook from the sphere, it darts away, 

And, in an instant, dies. 

Such are the charms that flush the cheek, 

And sparkle in the eye : 
So from the lovely finish'd form 

The transient graces fly. 



To this the seasons, as they roll, 

Their attestation bring : 
They warn the fair; their ev'ry round 

Confirms the truth I sing. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 179 

or swimming in death, how will you sustain the afflic- 
tion ? how will you repair the loss ? Apply your thoughts 
to religion. Attend to the one thing needful. Believe 
in, and imitate the blessed Jesus. Then shall your souls 
mount up to the realms of happiness, when the well- 
proportioned clay is mingling with its mean original. 
The light of God's countenance will irradiate, with 
matchless and consummate perfection, all their exalted 
faculties. Cleansed entirely from every dreg of corrup- 
tion, like some unsullied mirror, they will reflect the 
complete image of their Creator's holiness. ! that you 
would thus dress your minds, and prepare for the immortal 
state ! Then, from shining among your fellow-creatures 
on earth, you shall be translated to shine around the 
throne of God. Then, from being the sweeteners of our 
life, and the delight of our eyes, here below ; you shall 
pass, by an easy transition, into angels of light, and be- 
come " an everlasting excellency, the joy of all gene- 
rations." 

Yes ; ye flowery nations, ye must all decay. Yonder 
lily, that looks like the queen of the gay creation ; see, 
how gracefully it erects its majestic head! What an 
air of dignity and grandeur ennobles its aspect! For 
elevated mien, as well as for incomparable lustre, justly 
may it be preferred to the magnificent monarch of the 
East.* But, all stately and charming as it is, it w^ill 
hardly survive a few more days. That unspotted white- 
ness must quickly be tarnished, and the snowy form 
defiled in the dust. 

As the lily pleases with the noble simplicity of its ap- 
pearance, the tulip is admired for the gaiety and multi- 
plicity of its colors. Never was cup, either painted or 
enamelled, with such a profusion of dye : its tinges are 
so glowing ; its contrasts so strong ; and the arrange- 
ment of them both, so elegant and artful ! 'Twas lately 
the pride of the border, and the reigning beauty of the 
delightful season. As exquisitely fine as the rainbow, 
and almost as extremely transient, it spread, for a little 
* Matt. vi. 29. 



180 REFLECTIONS 



moment, its glittering plumage, but has now laid all its 
variegated and superior honors down. Those radiant 
stripes are blended, alas ! rudely blended with common 
mould. 

To a graceful shape and blooming complexion, the 
rose adds the most agreeable perfume. Our nostrils 
make it repeated visits, and are never weary of drinking 
in its sweets. A fragrance, so peculiarly rich and re- 
viving, transpires from its opening tufts ; that every one 
covets its acquaintance. How have I seen even the ac- 
complished Clarissa, for whom so many votaries languish, 
fondly caressing this little flower! That lovely bosom, 
which is the seat of innocence and virtue ; whose least 
excellency it is to rival the delicacy of the purest snows ; 
among a thousand charms of its own, thinks it possible 
to adopt another from the damask rosebud. Yet even 
this universal favorite must fail. Its native balm cannot 
preserve it from putrefaction. Soon, soon, must it resign 
all those endearing qualities, and hang neglected on its 
stem, or drop despised to the ground. 

One could wish, methinks, these most amiable of the 
inanimate race a longer existence ; but in vain : they 
fade almost as soon as they flourish ; within less than a 
month their glories are extinct. Let the sun take a few 
more journeys through the sky, then visit this enchant- 
ing walk, and you will find nothing but a wretched wil- 
derness of ragged or naked stalks — but (my soul exults 
in the thought) the garment of celestial glory, which 
shall ere long array the reanimated body, will never wax 
old. The illustrious robes of a Saviour's consummate 
righteousness, which even now adorn the justified spirits, 
are incorruptible and immortal. No moth can corrode 
their texture ; no number of ages sully their brightness. 
The light of day may be quenched, and all the stars sink 
in obscurity ; but the honors of "just men made perfect," 
are subject to no diminution. Inextinguishable and un- 
fading is the lustre of their crown. 

Yes ; ye flowery nations, ye must all decay. Winter, 
like some enraged and irresistible conqueror, that carries 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 181 

fire and sword wherever he advances ; that demolishes 
towns, depopulates countries, spreads slaughter and de- 
solation on every side — so, just so, will winter, with his 
savage and unrelenting blasts, invade this beautiful 
prospect. The storms are gathering, and the tempests 
mustering their rage, to fall upon the vegetable king- 
doms. They will ravage through the dominions of 
nature, and plunder her riches, and lay waste her charms. 
Then, ye trees, must ye stand stripped of your verdant 
apparel ; and, ye fields, be spoiled of your waving trea- 
sure. Then the earth, disrobed of all her gay attire, 
must sit in sables, like a disconsolate widow. The sun 
too, who now rides in triumph round the world, and 
scatters gaiety from his radiant eye, will then look faintly 
from the windows of the south ; and, casting a shorf 
glance on our dejected world, will leave us to the un- 
comfortable gloom of tedious nights. Then these pretty 
choristers of the air will chant no more to the gentle 
gales ; the lark, the linnet, and all the feathered song- 
sters, abandon their notes and indulge their woes. The 
harmony of the woods is at an end ; and silence, (unless 
it be interrupted by howling winds,) a sullen silence, 
sits brooding upon the boughs, which are now made 
vocal by a thousand warbling throats. 

But (sweet recollection! ravishing expectation!) the 
songs of saints in light never admit a pause for sadness. 
All heaven will resound with the melody of their grati- 
tude, and all eternity echo to their triumphant acclama- 
tions. The hallelujahs of that world, and the harmonious 
joy of its inhabitants, will be as lasting as the divine 
perfections they celebrate. Come then, holy love, and 
tune my heart; descend, celestial fire, and touch my 
tongue, that I may stand ready to strike up, and bear my 
part in that great hosanna, that everlasting hymn. 

Yes, yes ; ye flowery nations, ye must all decay. And, 
indeed, could you add the strength of an oak, or the 
stability of a pyramid,* to all the delicacy of your texture ; 

* I know not any performance, in which the transitory nature of 
these most durable monuments of human grandeur, is hinted with 

16 



182 REFLECTIONS 



yet short, exceeding short, even then, would your dura- 
tion be. For / see, that all things come to an end. The 
pillars of nature are tottering. The foundations of the 
round world are falling away. " The heavens them- 
selves wax old like a garment." But, amidst these views 
of general ruin, here is our refuge ; this is our consola- 
tion ; we know that our Redeemer liveth. Thy years, 
blessed Jesus, shall not fail. From everlasting to ever- 
lasting, Thou art still the same ; the same most excellent 
and adorable person ; the same omnipotent and faithful 
friend ; the same all-sufficient and inestimable portion. 
O ! may we but partake of thy merits, be sanctified by 
thy grace, and received into thy glory ! Then perish, 
if ye will, all inferior delights. Let all that is splendid 
in the skies, expire ; and all that is amiable in nature, be 
expunged. Let the whole extent of creation be turned 
again into one undistinguishable void, one universal 
blank. Yet, if God be ours, we shall have enough. If 
God be ours, we shall have all, and abound ;* all that 
our circumstances can want, or our wishes crave, to 
make us inconceivably blessed and happy ; blessed and 
happy, not only through this little interval of time, but 
through the unmeasurable revolutions of eternity. 

The sun is now come forth in his strength, and beats 

such a modest air of instruction ; or their hideous ruin described in 
such a pomp of pleasing horror ; as in a small, but solemn, pic- 
turesque, and majestic poem, entitled the Ruins of Rome, written 
by the Rev. Mr. Dyer ; whom the reader (if he has the pleasure of 
perusing that beautiful piece) will easily perceive to have taken his 
draughts from the originals themselves ; as nothing but the sight of 
those magnificent remains could have inspired the lines with such 
vivacity. As a specimen of the work, and a confirmation of the 
remark suggested above, I take leave to transcribe the following 
passage : 

The pilgrim oft, 

At dead of night, 'mid his orison hears 
Aghast the voice of time, disparting towVs- 
Tumbling all precipitate down dash'd, 
Rattling around, loud thundering to the moon. 

* His hand the good man fastens on the skies, 
And bids earth roll, nor feels the idle whirl. 

Night Thoughts. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 133 

fiercely upon my throbbing pulse. Let me retire to 
yonder inviting arbor. There the woodbines retain the 
lucid drop ; there the jessamines, which line the verdant 
alcove, are still impearled, and deliciously wet with 
dews. Welcome, ye refreshing shades ! I feel, I feel, 
your cheering influence. My languid spirits revive ; the 
slackened sinews are new strung ; and life bounds 
brisker through all her crimson channels. 

Reclined on this mossy couch, and surrounded by this 
fragrant coldness, let me renew my aspirations to the 
ever-present Deity. Here let me remember and imitate 
the pious Augustine and his mother Monica; who, being 
engaged in discourse on the beauties of the visible crea- 
tion, rose, by these ladders, to the glories of the invisi- 
ble state ; till they were inspired with the most affecting 
sense of their supereminent excellency, and actuated 
with the most ardent breathings after their full enjoy- 
ment ; insomuch, that they were almost rapt up into the 
bliss they contemplated ; and scarce " knew whether they 
were in the body, or out of the body." 

When tempests toss the ocean ; when plaintive sig- 
nals of distress are heard from the bellowing deep ; and 
melancholy tokens of shipwreck come floating on the 
foaming surge ; then, how delightful to stand safe on 
shore, and hug one's self in conscious security.* When 
a glut of waters bursts from some mighty torrent, rushes - 
headlong over all the neighboring plains, sweeps away 
the helpless cattle, and drives the affrighted shepherd 
from his hut ; then, from the top of a distant eminence 
to descry the danger we need not fear ; how pleasing ! — 
Such, methinks, is my present station. For now the sun 
blazes from on high ; the air glows with his fire ; the 
fields are rent with chinks ; the roads are scorched to 

* As Lucretius gave the hint for these observations, so he assigns 
the reason of the pleasure specified. It arises, not from the con- 
sideration of another 1 s misery ,• this would argue the rankest malevo- 
lence ; but from the agreeable contemplation of our own personal 
safety ; which, while we view circumstances that are pernicious to 
others, but harmless to ourselves, is not a little heightened by the 
contrast. Suave mart magno, etc. 



184 REFLECTIONS 



dust ; the woods seem to contract a sickly aspect, and a 
russet ii^e ; the traveller, broiled as he rides, hastens to 
his inn, and intermits his journey ; the laborer, bathed 
in sweat, drops the scythe, and desists from his work ; 
the cattle flee to some shady covert, or else pant and 
toss under the burning noon. Even the stubborn rock, 
smit with the piercing beams, is ready to cleave. All 
things languish beneath the dazzling deluge — while I 
shall enjoy a cool hour, and calm reflection, amidst the 
gloom of this bowery recess, which scarce admits one 
speck of sunshine. 

Thus, may both the flock and their shepherd dwell 
beneath the defence of the Most High, and abide under the 
shadow of the Almighty* Then, though the pestilence 
walketh in darkness, and the sickness destroyeth at noon- 
day ; though thousands fall beside us, and ten thousands 
at our right-hand ; we need fear no evil.f Either the 
destroying angel shall pass over our houses ; or else he 
shall dispense the corrections of a friend, not the 
scourges of an enemy ; which, instead of hurting us, 
shall work for our good. Then, though profaneness and 
infidelity, far more malignant evils, breathe deadly con- 
tagion, and taint the morals of multitudes around us ; 
yet, if the great Father of Spirits u hide us in the hollow 
of his hand," we shall hold fast our integrity, and be 
faithful until death. 

Let them, dearest Lord, ! let thy servant, and the 
people committed to his care, be received into thy pro- 
tection. Let us take sanctuary under that tree of life, 
erected in thy ignominious cross. Let us fly for safety 
to that city of refuge, opened in thy bleeding wounds. 
These shall be a sacred hiding-place, not to be pierced 
by the flames of divine wrath, or the fiery dart of temp- 
tation. Thy dying merits and perfect obedience, shall 
be to our souls as rivers of waters in a dry place, or as 
the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.% 

* Psal. xci. 1. 

f This was written when a very infectious and mortal distemper 
raged in the neighborhood. t Isa. xxxii. 2. 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 185 

But most of all, in that last tremendous day, when the 
heavens are rent asunder, and wrapped up like a scroll ; 
when thy Almighty arm shall arrest the sun in his career, 
and dash to pieces the structure of the universe ; when 
the dead, both small and great, shall be gathered before 
the throne of glory ; and the fates of all mankind hang 
on the very point of a final irreversible decision ; — then, 
blessed Jesus, let us be owned by Thee, and we shall 
not be ashamed ; defended by Thee, and we shall not be 
afraid. ! may we, at that awful, that unutterably 
important juncture, be covered with the wings of thy 
redeeming love ; and we shall behold all the horrible 
convulsions of expiring nature, with composure, with 
comfort ! We shall even welcome the dissolution of all 
things, as the times of refreshing from the presence of 
the Lord* 

There are, I perceive, who still attend the flowers ; 
and, in defiance of the sun, ply their work on every 
expanded blossom. The bees I mean ; that nation of 
chemists, to whom nature has communicated the rare 
and valuable secret, of enriching themselves, without 
impoverishing others ; who extract the most delicious 
syrup from every fragrant herb, without wounding its 
substance, or diminishing its odors. I take the more 
notice of these ingenious operators, because I would 
willingly make them my pattern. f While the gay but- 
terfly flutters her painted wings, and sips a little fantastic 
delight, only for the present moment ; while the gloomy 
spider, worse than idly busied, is preparing his insidious 
nets for destruction, or sucking venom, even from the 
most wholesome plants ; this frugal community are wisely 
employed in providing for futurity, and collecting a 
copious stock of the most balmy treasures. And ! 
might these meditations sink into my soul ! Would the 
God, who suggested each heavenly thought, vouchsafe 

* Acts, iii. 19. 

f Ego apis MatinsB 

More modoqut 

Grata carpentis thyma. — Horace. 

16* 



186 REFLECTIONS 



to convert it into an established principle ; to determine 
all my inclinations, and regulate my whole conduct ! I 
should then gather advantages from the same blooming 
objects, more precious than your golden stores, ye in- 
dustrious artists. I also should go home, laden with 
the richest sweets and the noblest spoils ; though I crop 
not a leaf, nor call a single flower my own. 

Here I behold, assembled in one view, almost all the 
various beauties which have been severally entertaining 
my imagination. The vistas, struck through an ancient 
wood, or formed by rows of venerable elms, conducting 
the spectator's observation to some remarkable object, 
or leading the traveller's footsteps to this delightful seat ; 
the walls enriched with fruit-trees, and faced with a 
covering of their leafy extensions ; I should rather have 
said, hung with different pieces of nature's noblest 
tapestry ; the walks neatly shorn and lined with verdure, 
or finely smoothed and ccated with gravel; the alleys 
arched with shades to embower our noon-tide repose, or 
thrown open for the free accession of air, to invite us to 
our evening recreation ; the decent edgings of box, 
which enclose, like a plain selvage, each beautiful com- 
partment, and its splendid figures ; the shapely ever- 
greens and Jlotvering shrubs, which strike the eye, and 
appears with peculiar dignity in this distant situation ; 
the basin with its crystal fount floating in the centre, and 
diffusing an agreeable freshness through the whole ; the 
waters, falling from a remote cascade, and gently mur- 
muring as they fall along the pebbles ; these, added to 
the rest, and all so disposed, tlat each recommends and 
endears each, render the whole a most sweet ravishing 
scene of order and variety, of elegance and magnificence. 

From so many lovely prospects clustering upon the 
sight, it is impossible not to be reminded of heaven ; that 
world of bliss, those regions of light, where the lamb 
that was slain manifests his beatific presence, and his 
saints live for evermore. But ! what pencil can sketch 
out a draught of that goodly land ! What colors or what 
style can express the splendors of Immanuel's kingdom ! 



ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 187 

Would some celestial hand draw aside the veil but for 
one moment, and permit us to throw a single glance on 
those divine abodes ; how would all sublunary posses- 
sions become tarnished in our eyes, and grow flat upon 
our taste ! A glimpse, a transient glimpse of those 
unutterable beatitudes, would captivate our souls, and 
engross all their faculties. Eden itself, after such a 
vision, would appear a cheerless desert, and all earthly 
charms intolerable deformity. 

Very excellent things are spoken of thee, thou city of 
God.* Volumes have been written, and those by inspired 
men, to display the wonders of thy perfections. All that 
is rich and resplendent in the visible creation has been 
called in to aid our conceptions, and elevate our ideas ; 
but indeed, no tongue can utter, no pen can describe, no 
fancy can imagine, what God, of his unbounded munifi- 
cence, has prepared for them that love him. Seeing 
then, that all terrestrial things must come to a speedy end, 
and there remaineth a rest, a blissful and everlasting rest, 
for the people of God ; let me never be too fondly 
attached to any present satisfactions. Weaned from 
whatever is temporal, may I maintain a superior indif- 
ference for such transitory enjoyments ; but long, long 
earnestly for the mansions that are above, the paradise 
" which the Lord hath planted, and not man." Thither 
may I transmit the chief of my conversation, and from 
thence expect the whole of my happiness. Be that the 
sacred, powerful magnet which ever influences my heart, 
ever attracts my affections. There are such transcendent 
glories as eye has not seen ; there are such transporting 
pleasures, as ear has not heard ; there is such a fullness 
of joys, as the thought of man cannot conceive. 

Into that consummate felicity, those eternal fruitions, 
permit me, Madam, to wish you, in due time, an abund- 
ant entrance ; and to assure you, that this wish is breathed 
with the same sincerity and ardor for my honored cor- 
respondent, as it is, Madam, for 

Your most obedient, &c, J. HERVEY. 

• Psal. lxxxvii. 2. 



A DESCANT 



UPON 



CREATION. 



With joy, with grief, the healing hand I see ; 
The Skies it formed and yet it bled for me. 

Night Thought*. 




A DESCANT 

UPON 

CREATION. 




F the reader pieases to iook back 
on page 155, he will find me 
engaged, by a promissory note, to 
subjoin a Descant upon Creation. 
To know the love of Christ ; to 
have such a deep apprehension 
of his unspeakable kindness, as 
may produce' in our hearts an 
adoring gratitude and unfeigned 
is, according to St. PauPs estimate. 
j;hest and happiest attainment in the 
sacred science of Christianity.* What fol- 
lows is an attempt to assist the attentive 
mind in learning a line or two of that best 
and greatest lesson. It introduces the most 
conspicuous parts of the visible system, as 
• Eph. iii. 19. 



192 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 

so many prompters to our dull affections ; each suggest- 
ing a hint adapted to the important occasion, and suited 
to its respective character. 

Can there be a more powerful incentive to devout 
gratitude, than to consider the magnificent and delicate 
scenes of the universe, with a particular reference to 
Christ as the Creator? Every object, viewed in this 
light, will surely administer incessant recruits to the 
languishing lamp of divine love. Every production in 
nature will strike a spark into the soul, and the whole 
creation concur to raise the smoking flax into a flame. 

Can any thing impart a stronger joy to the believer, 
or more effectually confirm his faith in the crucified 
Jesus, than to behold the heavens declaring his glory, 
and the firmament showing his handy work ? Surely it 
must be matter of inexpressible consolation to the poor 
sinner, to observe the honors of his Redeemer written 
with sunbeams over all the face of the world. 

We delight to read an account of our incarnate Je- 
hovah, as he is revealed in the books of Moses and the 
prophets, as he is displayed in the writings of the evan- 
gelists and apostles. Let us also endeavor to see a 
sketch of his perfections, as they stand delineated in 
that stately volume, where every leaf is a spacious 
plain ; every line, a flowing brook ; every period, a lofty 
mountain. 

Should any of my readers be unexercised in such 
speculations, I beg leave (in pursuance of my promise) 
to present them with a specimen, or to offer a clew, which 
may possibly lead their minds into this most improving 
and delightful train of thinking. 

Should any be inclined to suspect the solidity of the 
following observations, or to condemn them as the voice 
of i ant, and the lawless flight of fancy; I must entreat 
such persons to recollect, that the grand doctrine, the 
hinge on which they all turn, is warranted and esta- 
blished by the unanimous testimony of the inspired 
penmen, who frequently celebrate Immanuel, or Christ 
Jesus, as the great Almighty Cause of all ; assi ring us, 



DES3ANT UPON CREATION. 193 

that all things were created by him and for him, and that 
in him all things consist* 

On such a subject, what is wonderful is far from being 
extravagant. To be wonderful, is the inseparable cha- 
racteristic of God, and his works, especially of that 
most distinguished and glorious even of the divine 
works, redemption ; so glorious, u that all the miracles 
in Egypt, and the marvellous acts in the field of Zoan;" 
all that the Jewish annals have recorded, or the human 
ear has heard ; all dwindle into trivial events, are scarce 
worthy to be remembered^, in comparison of this in- 
finitely grand and infinitely gracious transaction.- • 
Kindled, therefore, into pleasing astonishment, by such 
a survey, let me give full scope to my meditations ; let 
me pour out my whole soul on the boundless subject ; 
not much regarding the limits which cold criticism, or 
colder unbelief, might prescribe. 

ye angels, that surround the throne ; ye princes of 
heaven, " that excel in strength," and are clothed with 
transcendent brightness ; He, w T ho placed you in those 
stations of exalted honor, and dignified your nature with 
such illustrious endowments ; He, whom you all obey 
and all adore ; He took not on him the angelic form, 
but was made flesh, and found in fashion as a man. 
Like us wretched mortals, he was subject to weariness, 
pain, and every infirmity, sin only excepted ; that we 
might one day be raised to your sublime abodes, be 
adopted into your blissful society, and join with your 
transported choir in giving glory to him that sitteth 
upon the throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever. J 

O ye heavens, whose azure arches rise immensely 
high, and stretch unmeasurably wide ; stupendous am- 
phitheatre ! amidst wiiose vast expansive circuit, orbs 
of the most dreadful grandeur are perpetually running 
their amazing races; unfathomable depth of aether! 
where worlds unnumbered float, and, to our limited 

* Col. i. 16, 17. — Before my reader enters upon the following 
descant, he is desired to peruse the note, page 132. 
f Isa. xliii. 18. \ Rev. v. 13. 

17 



194 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 

sight, worlds unnumbered are lost ; He, who adjusted 
your dimensions with his span, and formed the magni- 
ficent structure with a word ; He was once wrapped in 
swaddling clothes, and laid in a manger ; that the bene- 
fits accruing to his people, through his most meritorious 
humiliation, might have no other measure of their value 
than immensity; might run parallel in their duration, 
with eternity. 

Ye stars, that beam with inextinguishable brilliancy 
through the midnight sky ; oceans of flame and centres 
of worlds, though seemingly little points of light : He 
who shone with essential effulgence, innumerable ages 
before your twinkling tapers were kindled, and will 
shine with everlasting majesty and beauty, when your 
places in the firmament shall be known no more ; He 
was involved for many years in the deepest obscurity ; 
lay concealed in the contemptible city Nazareth; lay 
disguised under the mean habit of a carpenter's son, 
that he might plant the heavens,* as it were, with new 
constellations, and array these clods of earth, these 
houses of clay, with a radiancy far superior to yours ; a 
radiancy, which will adorn the very heaven of heavens, 
when you shall vanish away like smoke, f or expire as 
momentary sparks from the smitten steel. 

Comets, that sometimes shoot into the illimitable tracts 
of ether, farther than the discernment of our eye is able 
to follow ; sometimes return from the long, long excur- 
sion, and sweep our affrighted hemisphere with your 
enormous fiery train ; that sometimes make near ap- 
proaches to the sun, and burn almost in his immediate 

* Isa. li. 16. 

j- Alluding to a passage in Isaiah, which is, I think, grand and 
elevated beyond all comparison. Lift up your eyes to the heavens, 
and look upon the earth beneath ; for the heavens shall vanish away like 
smoke ; and the earth shall wax old like a garment, and they that dwell 
therein shall die lfke a feeble insect; but my righteousness shall be for- 
ever, and my salvation shall not be abolished, — Isa. li. 6. With the great 
Vitringa, I translate the words ?3 ^D3 not, in like manner, but like the 
feeble insect,- which renders the period more complete, the sense 
more emphatical, and is more agreeable to the genius of the sacred 
original. 



DESCANT UPON CREATION. 195 



beams ; sometimes retire to the remotest distance, and 
freeze for ages in the excessive rigors of winter ; He, 
who at his sovereign pleasure withdraws the blazing 
wonder, or leads forth the portentous stranger to shake 
terror over guilty kingdoms ; He was overwhelmed with 
the most shocking amazement, and plunged into the 
deepest anxiety ; w r as chilled with apprehensions of fear, 
and scorched by the flames of avenging w T rath ; that I, 
and other depraved rebellious creatures might not be 
eternally agitated with the extremes of jarring passions; 
opposite, yet on either side tormenting ; far more tor- 
menting to the soul, than the severest degrees of your 
heat and cold to the human sense. 

Ye planets, that, winged with unimaginable speed, 
traverse the regions of the sky ; sometimes climbing 
millions and millions of miles above, sometimes descend- 
ing as far below the great axle of your motions : ye that 
are so minutely faithful to the vicissitudes of day and 
night, so exactly punctual in bringing on the changes 
of your respective seasons : He who launched you at 
first from his mighty arm ; who continually impels you 
with such wonderful rapidity, and guides you with 
such perfect regularity ; who fixes " the habitation of 
his holiness and his glory," infinite heights above your 
scanty rounds ; He once became a helpless infant, 
sojourned in our inferior world, fled from the perse- 
cutor's sword, and wandered as a vagabond in a foreign 
land ; that he might lead our feet into the way of peace ; 
that he might bring us aliens near to God, bring us 
exiles home to heaven. 

Thou sun, inexhausted source of light, and heat, and 
comfort! who, without the assistance of any other fire, 
sheddest day through a thousand realms, and not con- 
fining thy munificence to realms only, extendest thy 
enlightening influence to surrounding worlds ; prime 
cheerer of the animal, and great enlivener of the vege- 
table tribes ! so beautiful in thyself, so beneficial in thy 
effects, that erring heathens addressed thee with adora- 
tions, and mistook thee for their maker ! He who filled 



196 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 

thy orb with a profusion of lustre, before whom thy 
meridian splendors are but a shade ; He divested him- 
self of his all-transcending distinctions, and drew a veil 
over the effulgence of his divinity ; that by speaking to 
us face to face, as a man speaketh unto his friend, he 
might dispel our intellectual darkness. His " visage 
was marred,' 5 * and he became the scorn of men, the 
outcast of the people ; that, by this manifestation of his 
unutterably tender regard for our welfare, he might 
diffuse many a gleam of joy through our dejected minds ; 
that, in another state of things, he might clothe even 
our fallen nature with the honors of that magnificent 
luminary, and give all the righteous to shine forth as the 
sun in the kingdom of their Father. 

Thou moon, that walkest among the host of stars, and 
in thy lucid appearance art superior to them all! fair 
ruler of the night ; sometimes half restoring the day with 
thy waxing brightness ; sometimes waning into dimness, 
and scarcely scattering the nocturnal gloom ; sometimes 
covered with sackcloth, and alarming the gazing nations ; 
He who dresses thy opaque globe in beaming but bor- 
rowed silver; He whose dignity is unchangeable, un- 
derived, and all his own ; He vouchsafed to w T ear a 
body of clay : He was content to appear as in a bloody 
eclipse, shorn of his resplendent beams, and surrounded 
with a night of horror, which knew not one reviving 
ray. Thus has he empowered his church, and all 
believers, to tread the moon under their feet.f Hence, 
inspired with the hope of brighter glory, and more endur- 
ing bliss, are they enabled to triumph over all the vain 
anxieties and vainer amusements of this sublunary, pre- 
carious, mutable world. 

Ye thunders, that, awfully grumbling in the distant 
clouds, seem to meditate indignation, and form the first 
essays of a far more frightful peal ; or, suddenly bursting 
over our heads, rend the vault above, and shake the 
ground below, with the hideous, horrid crack ; ye that 
send your tremendous volleys from pole to pole, start- 
• Isa. lii. 14. -j- Rev. xii. i. 



DESCANT UPON CREATION. 197 

ling the savage herds,* and astonishing the human race : 
He who permits terror to sound her trumpet in your 
deep, prolonged, enlarging, aggravated roar ! He ut- 
tered a feeble infantile cry in the stable, and strong 
expiring groans on the accursed tree ; that he might, in 
the gentlest accents, whisper peace to our souls, and at 
length tune our voices to the melody of heaven. 

ye lightnings, that brood, and lie couchant in the 
sulphureous vapours ; that glance, with forked fury, 
from the angry gloom, swifter and fiercer than the lion 
rushes from his den ; or open into vast expansive sheets 
of flame, sublimely waved over the prostrate world, and 
fearfully lingering in the affrighted skies : Ye^ that 
formerly laid in ashes the licentious abodes of lust and 
violence ; that will, ere long, set on fire the elements, 
and co-operate in the conflagration of the globe: He 
who kindles your flash, and directs you when to sally, 
and where to strike ; He who commissions your whirl- 
ing bolts, whom to kill, and whom to spare ; He re- 
signed his sacred person to the most barbarous, indig- 
nities, submitted his beneficent hands to the ponderous 
hammer and the piercing nail, yea, withheld not his 
heart, his very heart, from the stab of the executioner's 
spear ; and, instead of flashing confusion on his out- 
rageous tormentors, instead of plunging them to the 
depths of hell with his frown, he cried — in his last 
moments, and with his agonizing lips, he cried, — 
11 Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do !" 
O ! w T hat a pattern of patience for his saints ! w T hat an 
object of admiration for angels! what a constellation 
of every mild, amiable, and benign virtue ; shining, in 
this hour of darkness, w T ith ineffable splendor and 
beauty !f — Hence, hence it is, that we are not trembling 

* Psal. xxix. 8. 

f One can hardty forbear animadverting upon the disingenuous 
temper and perverse taste of Cekus, who attempts to turn this most 
distinguishing and ornamental part of our Lord's life into ridicule 
and reproach. Having spoken of Christ as despitefully used and 
arrayed in a purple robe, crowned with thorns, and holding, by way 
of mock majesty, a reed instead of a sceptre (for he enters into these 

17* 



198 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 

undor the lightnings of Mount Sinai; that we are not 
blasted by the flames of divine vengeance ; or doomed 
to dwell with everlasting burnings. 

Ye frowning wintry clouds ; oceans pendent in the air, 
and burdening the winds ; He, in whose hand you are 
an overflowing scourge, or by whose appointment an 
arsenal of warlike stores :* He w T ho opens your sluices, 



circumstances, which is a testimony to their truth, even from the 
mouth of an enemy) he adds, Tt ovk, ei /«; -npooBev, a\\a wv yow Ssiov 

ri emSeiKvvrai ; Kai rrjg aio%vvrig ravrrig eavrvv pverai, Kai rovg vfipi^ovrag eig 

eavrov rs xat rov irartpa fanaioi. — Orig. contra Cels. p. 81 ; i. e. "Why, 
in the name of wonders, does he not on this occasion, at least, act 
the god] Why does he not deliver himself from this shocking 
ignominy, or execute some signal vengeace on the authors of such 
injurious and abusive insults, both of himself and his Father]" 
Why, Celsus P Because he was meekness and gentleness itself; 
whereas, your deities were slaves to their own turbulent and resent- 
ful passions. Because they were little better than savages in 
human shape, who too often made a merit of slaughter, and took a 
horrid pride in spilling blood ; while Christ was the Prince of Peace, 
and came not to destroy men's lives, but to save. Because any 
madman on earth, or fury from hell, is capable of venting his rage ; 
but who, amidst such insufferable provocations and barbarities ; 
who, having in his own hand the power to rescue himself, the power 
to avenge himself, could submit to all with the unruffled serenity of 
patience; and not only not be exasperated, but overcome, in so 
triumphant a manner, evil with good ? None but Christ ! None but 
Christ! This was compassion worthy of a God; clemency and 
charity truly divine. 

Therefore, the calumny raised by the same virulent objector in 
another place, carries its own confutation, or rather falls with a 
weight of infamy on his own dunghill deities ; while it bears a most 
honorable testimony to the majestic and invincible meekness of the 
Saviour. Su psv, says he to the Christian, ra ayaXpara tovtojv \0160pwv 

KarayeXag, og ovrov ye rov Aiowaov rj rov Hpa/cAca irapovra si ehoiSoprjaag, ovk 
av lorcog x ai P (t)V airaWa^ag' rov ye gov Qcov -rrapovra Kdraeivovreg Kai Ko\a(,ovTSg, 

ovfcu, 01 ravra SpaaavTsg mnovSaaiv. — Ibid. p. 404. i. e. " You, indeed, take 
upon you to deride the images of our deity; but if Bacchus himself, 
or Hercules had been present, you would not have dared to offer such 
an affront ; or if you had been so presumptuous, would have se- 
verely smarted for your insolence. Whereas, they who tormented 
the very person of God, and even extended him with mortal agony 
on the cross, suffered no effects of his displeasure." 

* Juvenal seems to consider the clouds under this same character, 
in that beautiful line : 

Quidquid habent telorum armamentaria ceelu 



DESCANT UPON CREATION. -[99 

ancf a flood gushes forth, to destroy the fruits of the 
earth, and drown the husbandman's hopes: who moulds 
you into frozen balls, and you are shot, linked with 
death,* on the troops of his enemies : He, instead of dis- 
charging the furiousness of his wrath on my guilty head, 
poured out his prayers, poured out his sighs, poured out 
his very soul, for me and my fellow-transgressors ; that, 
by virtue of his inestimable propitiation, the overflow- 
ings of divine good-will might be extended to sinful 
men ; that the skies might pour down righteousness ; and 
peace, on her downy wings, peace, with her balmy 
blessings, descend to dwell on earth. 

Ye vernal clouds, furls of finer air, folds of softer 
moisture ; He who draws you in copious exhalations 
from the briny deep, bids you leave every distasteful 
quality behind, and become floating fountains of sweetest 
waters ; He, who dissolves you into gentle rain, and 
dismisses you in fruitful showers ; who kindly commis- 
sions you to drop down fatness as you fall, and to scat- 
ter flowers over the field ; He, in the unutterable bitter- 
ness of his spirit, was without any comforting sense of 
his Almighty Father's presence He, when his bones 
were burnt up like a firebrand, had not a drop of that 
sacred consolation which, on many of his afflicted ser- 
vants, has been distilled as the evening dews, and has 
" given songs in the night" of distress ; that from this 
unallayed and inconsolable anguish of our all-gracious 
Master, we, as from a well of salvation, might derive 
large draughts of spiritual refreshment. 

Thou grand ethereal bow, whose beauties flush the 

* Job has informed us, for what purpose the magazines of the 
firmament are stocked with hail. That they may be ready against 
the day of battle and war. — Job, xxxviii. 23. Joshua has recorded 
what terrible slaughter has been made by those missive weapons of 
the Almighty. — Josh. x. 11. Modern historians relate, that when 
Edward III., invaded France, a shower of hailstones descended, of 
such a prodigious size, that six thousand horses, and one thousand 
men, were struck dead instantaneously. But the most dreadful 
description of this great ordnance of the heavens is given us in Rev. 
xvi. 21 : "There fell upon men a great hail out of heaven, every 
stone about the weight of a talent." 



200 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 

firmament, and charm every spectator ; He who paints 
thee on the fluid skirts of the sky, who decks thee with 
all the pride of colors, and bends thee into that graceful 
and majestic figure; at whose command thy vivid 
streaks sweetly rise, or swiftly fade ; He, through all 
his life, was arrayed in the humble garb of poverty, and 
at his exit wore the gorgeous habit of contempt ; inso- 
much, that even his own familiar friends, ashamed or 
afraid to own him, " hid as it were, their faces from 
him;"* to teach us a becoming disdain for the unsub- 
stantial and transitory glitter of all worldly vanities; to 
introduce us in robes brighter than the tinges of thy 
resplendent arch, even in the robes of his own immacu- 
late righteousness, to introduce us before that august and 
venerable throne, which the peaceful rainbow surrounds, 
surrounds as a pledge of inviolable fidelity and infinite 
mercy. 

Ye storms and tempests, which vex the continent, and 
toss the seas; which dash navies on the rocks, and 
drive forests from their roots ; He, whose breath rouses 
you into such resistless fury, and whose nod controls 
you in your wildest career; He, who holds the rapid and 
raging hurricane in straitened reins, and walks, dread- 
fully serene, on the very wings of the wind ; He went, 
all meek and gentle, like a lamb to the slaughter for us; 
and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened 
not his mouth. Thus are we instructed to bear, with 
decent magnanimity, the various assaults of adversity ; 
and to pass, with a becoming tranquillity of temper, 
through all the rude blasts of injurious treatment. Thus 
are we delivered from the unutterably fiercer storms of 
incensed and inexorable justice, from the " fire, the 
brimstone, and the horrible tempest, which will be the 
final portion of the ungodly. 55 

Thou pestilence, that scatterest ten thousand poisons 

* Isa, Hi. 3. — UDD CTJD "IfiDDD? Fuit tanquam aliquis, a quo 
quisque faciem occultaret. He was as some flagitious and abandoned 
wretch, from whom every one, disdaining such a character, and dis- 
claiming such an acquaintance, studiously hid his face. 



DESCANT UPON CREATION. 201 

from thy baleful wings, tainting the air, and infecting 
the nations; under whose malignant influence, joy is 
blasted, and nature sickens ; mighty regions are depopu- 
lated, and once crowded cities are left without inhabi- 
tants : He, who arms thee with inevitable destruction, 
and bids thee march before his angry countenance,* to 
spread desolation among the tents of the wricked, and be 
the forerunner of far more fearful indignation : He, in 
his holy humanity, was arraigned as a criminal ; and 
though innocence itself, yea, the very pattern of perfec- 
tion, was condemned to die, like the most execrable 
miscreant. As a nuisance to society, and the very bane 
of the public happiness, he was hurried away to execu- 
tion, and hammered to the gibbet: that by his blood he 
might prepare a sovereign medicine, to cure us of a 
more fatal distemper, than the pestilence which walketh 
in darkness, or the sickness which destroyeth at noon- 
day ; that he might himself say to our last enemy, " 
death, I will be thy plague : grave, I will be thy 
destruction, "f 

Heat, whose burning influence parches the Libyan 
wilds, tans into soot the Ethiopian's complexion, and 
makes every species of life pant, and droop, and 
languish : Cold, w T hose icy breath glazes yearly the Rus- 
sian seas, often glues the frozen sailor to the cordage, 
and stiffens the traveller into a statue of rigid flesh : He, 
w T ho sometimes blends you both, and produces the most 
agreeable temperature ; sometimes suffers you to act 
separately, and rage with intolerable severity : that King 
of Heaven, that Controller of universal Nature, when 
dwelling in a tabernacle of clay, was exposed to chilling 
damps, and smitten by sultry beams. The stars in their 
midnight watches, heard him pray ; and the sun, in his 
meridian fervors, saw him toil. Hence are our frozen 
hearts dissolved into a mingled flow of wonder, love, 
and joy; being conscious of a deliverance from those 

* Before him went the pestilence. — Hab. ii. 5. 
■j- Hos. xiii. 14. 



202 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 

insufferable flames, which, kindled by divine indigna- 
tion, burn to the lowest hell. 

Thou ocean, vast world of waters! He, who sunk 
that capacious bed for thy reception, and poured the 
liquid element into unfathomable channels ; before whom 
all thy foaming billows and floating mountains are as 
the small drop of a bucket; who, by the least intimation 
of his will, swells thy fluid kingdoms, in wild confusion, 
to mingle with the clouds ; or reduces them, in calm 
composure to slumber on the shores : He, who once 
gave thee a warrant to overwhelm the whole earth, and 
bury all its degenerate inhabitants in a watery grave ; 
but has now laid an everlasting embargo on thy bois- 
terous waves, and bound thee all fierce and madding as 
thou art, in chains stronger than adamant, yet formed 
of despicable sand ; — all the waves of vengeance and 
wrath, of tribulation and anguish, passed over his cruci- 
fied body, and his agonizing soul ; that we might emerge 
from those depths of misery, from that abyss of guilt, 
into which we were plunged by Adam's fall, and more 
irretrievably sunk by our own transgressions ; that at the 
last, we might be restored to that happy world which 
is represented, in the vision of God, as having " no 
sea ;"* to denote its perpetual stability, and undisturbed 
serenity. 

Ye mountains, that overlook the clouds, and project 
a shade into distant provinces ; everlasting pyramids of 
nature, not to be shaken by conflicting elements, not to 
be shattered by the bolts of thunder, nor impaired even 
by the ravages of time ; He who bid your ridges rise so 
high, and your foundations stand so fast ; He, in whose 
scale you are lighter than dust ; in whose eye you are 
less than nothing ; He sunk beneath a load of woes ; 
woes insupportable, but not his own ; when he took our 
iniquities upon himself, and heaved the more than 
mountainous burden from a guilty world. 

Ye verdant woods, that crown our hills, and are 
crowned yourselves with leafy honors : ye humble 
* Rev. xxi. 1. 



DESCANT UPON CREATION. 203 

shrubs, adorned in spring with opening blossoms, and 
fanned in summer by gentle gales ; ye that in distant 
climes, or in cultivated gardens, breathe your spicy 
odors, and embalm the air with delightful perfumes : 
your all-glorious and ever-blessed Creator's head, was 
encircled with the thorny wreath ; his face was denied 
with contumelious spitting, and his body bathed in a 
bloody sweat ; that we might wear the crown, the 
crown of glory, which fadeth not away ; and live for 
evermore, surrounded with delights, as much surpass- 
ing yours, as yours exceed the rugged desolations of 
winter. 

Thou mantling vine ; He who hangs on thy slender 
shoots, the rich, transparent, weighty cluster ; who, 
under thy unornamented foliage, and amidst the pores 
of thy otherwise worthless bough, prepares the liquor — 
the refined and exalted liquor, which cheers the nations, 
and fills the cup of joy ; Trees, whose branches are 
elevated and waving in air, or diffused in easy confine- 
ment along a sunny wall : He, who bends you with a 
lovely burden of delicious fruits, whose genial warmth 
beautifies their rind and mellows their taste ; He, when 
voluntarily subject to our wants, instead of being re- 
freshed with your generous juices, or regaled with your 
luscious pulp, had a loathsome portion of vinegar 
mingled with gall, addressed to his lips ; that we might 
sit under the shadow of his merits with great tranquillity 
and the utmost complacency; that, ere long, being 
admitted into the paradise of God, we might eat of the 
tree of life, and drink new wine with him in his 
Father's kingdom. 

Ye luxuriant meadows ; He who without the seeds- 
man's industry, replenishes your irriguous clay with 
never-failing crops of herbage, and enamels their cheer- 
ful green with flowers of every hue : Ye fertile fields ; 
He who blesses the labors of the husbandman, enriches 
your well-tilled plains with waving harvests, and calls 
forth the staff of life from your furrows ; He who causes 
both meadows and fields to laugh and sing for the 



204 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 

abundance of plenty : He was no stranger to corroding 
hunger and parching thirst ; He, alas ! ate the bitter 
bread of woe, and had " plenteousness of tears to 
drink," that we might partake of richer dainties than 
those which are produced by the dew of heaven, and 
proceed from the fatness of the earth ; that we might 
feed on " the hidden manna," and eat the bread which 
giveth life, eternal life, unto the world. 

Ye mines, rich in yellow ore, or bright with veins of 
silver ; that distribute your shining treasures as far as 
winds can w T aft the vessel of commerce ; that bestow 
your alms on monarchs, and have princes for your pen- 
sioners : Ye beds of gems, toy-shops of nature ; which 
form, in dark retirement, the glittering stone ; diamonds, 
that sparkle with a brilliant water ; rubies, that glow r 
with a crimson flame ; emeralds, dipped in the freshest 
verdure of spring; sapphires, decked with the fairest 
drapery of the sky; topaz, emblazed with the golden 
gleam ; amethyst, impurpled with the blushes of the 
morning : He who tinctures the metallic dust, and con- 
solidates the lucid drop; He, when sojourning on earth, 
had no riches but the riches of disinterested benevo- 
lence ; had no ornament, but the ornament of unspotted 
purity. Poor he was in his circumstances, and mean in 
all his accommodations ; that we might be rich in grace, 
and " obtain salvation with eternal glory;" that we 
might inhabit the new Jerusalem, that splendid city, 
whose streets are paved with gold ; whose gates are 
formed of pearl ; and the walls garnished with all manner 
of precious stones.* 

Ye gushing fountains, that trickle potable silver 
through the matted grass : Ye fine transparent streams, 
that glide in crystal waves along your fringed banks . 
Ye deep and stately rivers, that wind and wander in 
your course, to spread your favors wider ; that gladden 
kingdoms in your progress, and augment the sea with 
your tribute : He who supplies all your currents from 
his own ever-flowing and inexhaustible liberality ; He, 
* Rev. xxi. 19,21. 



DESCANT UPON CREATION. 205 

when his nerves were racked with exquisite pain, and 
his blood inflamed by a raging fever, cried, J thirst, and 
was denied (unparalleled hardship!) in this his great 
extremity, was denied the poor refreshment of a single 
drop of water ; that we, having all-sufficiency in all 
things, might abound in every good work ; might be 
filled with the fullness of spiritual blessings here, and 
hereafter be satisfied with that fullness of joy which is 
at God's right hand for evermore. 

Ye birds, cheerful tenants of the bough, daily dressed 
in glossy plumage ; who wake the morn, and solace the 
groves with your artless lays : inimitable architects ! who, 
without rule or line, build your pensile structures with 
all the nicety of proportion ; you have each his com- 
modious nest, roofed with shades and lined with warmth, 
to protect and cherish the callow brood ; but He, who 
tuned your throats to harmony, and taught you that 
curious skill ; He was a man of sorrows, and had not 
where to lay his head ; had not w T here to lay his head, 
till he felt the pangs of dissolution, and was laid in the 
silent grave ; that we, dwelling under the wings of 
omnipotence, and resting in the bosom of infinite love, 
might spend an harmonious eternity in "singing the 
song of Moses and of the Lamb." 

Bees, industrious workmen ! that sweep, with busy 
wing, the flowery garden ; and search the blooming 
heath; and sip the mellifluous dews: strangers to idle- 
ness! that ply, with incessant assiduity, your pleasing 
task, and suffer no opening blossom to pass unexplored, 
no sunny gleam to slip away unimproved : most ingenious 
artificers ! that cling to the fragrant buds, drain them of 
their treasured sweets, and extract (if I may so speak) 
even the odoriferous souls of herbs, and plants, and 
flowers; you, when you have completed your work; 
have collected, refined, and securely lodged the ambro- 
sial stores ; w T hen you might reasonably expect the 
peaceful fruition of your acquisitions ; you, alas ! are 
barbarously destroyed, and leave your hoarded delici- 
cies to others; leave them to be enjoyed by your very 

18 



206 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 

murderers. — I cannot but pity your hard destiny ! How 
then should my bowels melt with sympathy, and my 
eyes flow with tears,* when I remember, that thus, thus 
it fared with your and our Incarnate Maker ! After a 
life of the most exemplary and exalted piety ; a life, 
filled with offices of beneficence and labors of love ; he 
w T as, by wicked hands, crucified and slain. He left the 
honey of his toil, the balm of his blood, and the riches 
of his obedience, to be shared among others ; to be 
shared even among those, who too often crucify him 
afresh, and put him to open shame. 

Shall I mention the animal, f which spins her soft, her 
shining, her exquisitely fine silken thread ; whose match- 
less manufactures lend an ornament to grandeur, and 
make royalty itself more magnificent? Shall I take 
notice of the cell, in which, when the gaiety and business 
of life are over, the little recluse immures herself and 
spends the remainder of her days in retirement ? Shall 
I rather observe the sepulchre, which, when cloyed with 
pleasure and weary of the world, she prepares for her 
own interment? or how when a stated period is elapsed, 
she wakes from a death-like inactivity, breaks the inclo- 

* Canst thou, ungrateful man, his torments see, 
Nor drop a tear for him, who pour'd his blood for thee .- 

Pitt's Poems. 

| No one, I hope, will be offended at my introducing, on such an 
occasion, creatures of so low a rank, since, even the volumes of in- 
spiration seem to lend me the sanction of their sacred authority ; as 
they disdain not to compare the blessed Jesus to a door, sl highway, 
&c. And, perhaps, all comparisons which respect a Being of infinite 
dignity, are not only mean, but equally mean and unworthy. 

I am sensible, likewise, that in this paragraph and some others, 
all the circumstances are not completely correspondent; but if, in 
some grand particulars, the reddition answers to the description, this, 
I trust, will be sufficient for my purpose, and satisfactory to my 
readers. Perhaps, it would be no mistaken caution, to apply the 
same observation to many of the beautiful similitudes, parables, and 
allegories, used by our Lord ; such as the brazen serpent, the unjust 
steuard, the thief in the night, &c, which, if scrupulously sifted, 
nr rigorously strained for an entire coincidence in every circum- 
stance, must appear to great disadvantage, and lead into palpable 
inconveniences. 



DESCANT UPON CREATION. 207 



sure of her tomb, throws off the dusky shroud, assumes 
a new form, puts on a more sumptuous array, and, from 
an insect creeping on the ground, becomes a winged 
inhabitant of the air ? No : this is a poor reptile ; and 
therefore unworthy \o serve as an illustration, when any 
character of the Son of God comes under consideration. 
But let me correct myself. Was not Christ (to use the 
language of his own blessed Spirit) a worm, and no 
man ?* in appearance such, and treated as such ? Did 
he not also bequeath the fine linen of his own most per- 
fect righteousness to compose the marriage garmentf for 

* Psalm, xxii. 6. 

| This, and several other hints interspersed in this work, refer to 
the active and passive righteousness of Christ, imputed to believers 
for their justification : which, in the opinion of many great exposi- 
tors, is the mystical and the most sublime meaning of the wedding 
garment, so emphatically and forcibly recommended by the Teacher 
sent from God ; Matt. xxii. 11 ; a doctrine, which some of those who 
honor my meditations with a perusal, probably may not receive with 
much, if any approbation. I hope the whole performance will not 
be cashiered for one difference in sentiment; and I beg that the sen- 
timent itself may not hastily be rejected without a serious hearing: 
for I have the pleasure of being intimately acquainted with a gentle- 
man of good learning and distinguished sense, who had once as 
strong prepossessions against this tenet as can well be imagined; 
yet now he not only admits it as a truth, but embraces it as the joy 
of his heart, and cleaves to it as the rock of his hopes. 

A clear and cogent treatise, entitled, Submission to the Righteous- 
ness of God, was the instrument of removing his prejudices, and re- 
ducing him to a better judgment; in which he has been happily con- 
firmed by the authority of the most illustrious names, and the works 
of the most eminent pens, that have ever adorned our churcn ana 
nation. In this number are, Bishop Jewel, one of our great re- 
formers ; and the other venerable compilers of our homilies — Arch- 
bishop Usher, that oracle of universal learning — Bishop Hall, the 
devout and sprightly orator of his age — the copious and fervent 
Bishop Hopkins — the singularly good and unaffected Bishop Beve- 
ridge — that everlasting honor of the bench of judicature, Lord Chief 
Justice Hale — the nervous, florid, and persuasive Dean Stanhope — 
the practical and perspicuous Mr. Burkitt — and, to summon no 
other evidence, that matchless genius, Milton, who in various parts 
of his divine poem inculcates this comfortable truth, and in one pas- 
sage represents it under the very same image which is made use of 
above. — Book x. 222. 

I had almost forgot to mention that the treatise entitled, Submis- 
sion, &c, was written by Mr. Benjamin Jenks, whose Book of Devo- 



208 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 

our disarrayed and defiled souls ? Did he not, before 
his flesh saw corruption, emerge triumphant from the 
grave ; and not only mount the lower firmament, but 
ascend the heaven of heavens, take possession of those 
sublime abodes, in our name, and as our forerunner? 

Ye cattle, that rest in your inclosed pastures ; ye 
beasts, that range the unlimited forest ; ye fish, that rove 
through trackless paths of the sea ; sheep clad in gar- 
ments, which, when left by you are worn by kings ; 
kine, who feed on verdure, which, transmuted in your 
bodies, and strained from your udders, furnishes a repast 
for queens ; lions roaring after your prey ; leviathan, 
taking your pastime in the great deep ; with all that 
wing the firmament, or tread the soil, or swim the 
wave : He who spreads his ever hospitable board, who 
admits you all to be his continual guests, and suffers you 
to want no manner of thing that is good ; He was desti- 
tute, afflicted, tormented ; He endured all that was 
miserable and reproachful, in order to exalt a degenerate 
race, who had debased themselves to a level with the 
beasts that perish, unto seats of distinguished and im- 
mortal honor, in order to introduce the slaves of sin and 
heirs of hell into mansions of consummate and everlast- 
ing bliss. 

tions has deservedly passed through eleven editions, is truly admirable 
for the sublimity,spirituality,and propriety of the sentiments, as well 
as for the concise form and pathetic turn of the expression ; whose 
Book of Meditations, though no less worthy of general acceptance, 
has for a considerable time been almost unknown and extinct, bat is 
now revived, and is lately republished, in two octavo volumes, by 
Mr. James Rivington ,• for which service he has my thanks ; I flatter 
myself, he will have the thanks of the public, as I am persuaded, 
could religion and virtue speak, he would have their acknowledg- 
ments also ; since few treatises are more happily calculated to re- 
present religion in its native beauty, and to promote the interests of 
genuine virtue : on which account, I trust, the candid will excuse 
me, and the judicious will not condemn me, even though the recom- 
mendation of those devotions and of these meditations may appear 
to be a digression from my subject. 

N. B. Should the reader be inclined to examine the afore-men- 
tioned tene , he will find it stated, discussed, and applied to its due 
improvement, in a piece entitled Therm and Azpasio. 



DESCANT UPON CREATION. 209 

Surely, the contemplation of such a subject, and the 
distant anticipation of such a hope, may almost turn 
earth into heaven, and make even inanimate nature 
vocal with praise. Let it then break forth from every 
creature. Let the meanest feel the inspiring impulse ; 
let the greatest acknowledge themselves unable worthily 
to express the stupendous goodness. 

Praise Him, ye insects that crawl on the ground ; who, 
though high above all height, humbled himself to dwell 
in dust. Birds of the air, waft on your wings, and 
warble in your notes, his praise, who, though Lord of 
the celestial abodes, while sojourning on earth, wanted 
a shelter commodious as your nests. Ye rougher world 
of brutes, join with the gentle songsters of the shade, 
and howl to Him your hoarse applause, who breaks the 
jaw-bones of the infernal lion, who softens into mildness 
the savage disposition, and bids the wolf lie down, in 
amicable agreement, with the lamb. Bleat out, ye hills ; 
let broader lows be responsive from the vales ; ye forests 
catch, and ye rocks retain, the inarticulate hymn ; because 
Messiah the Prince feeds his flock like a shepherd; he gath- 
ereth the lambs with his arms ; he carries them in his bosom, 
and gently leads those that are with young* Wave, 
ye stately cedars, in sign of worship, wave your branch- 
ing heads to Him, who meekly bowed his own on the 
accursed tree. Pleasing prospects, scenes of beauty, 
where nicest art conspires with lavish nature to form a 
paradise below, lay forth all your charms, and in all 
your charms confess yourselves a mere blank compared 
with his amiableness, w T ho is " fairest among ten thou- 
sand, and altogether lovely." Drop down, ye showers ; 
and testify, as you fall ; testify of his grace, which 
descends more copiously than the rain, distils more 
sweetly than the dew. Let sighing gales breathe, and 
murmuring rivulets flow ; breathe and flow in harmonious 
consonance to Him, whose Spirit is far more reviving 
than the cooling breeze, who is himself the Fountain of 
living Waters. 

* Isa. xl. 11. 



^10 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 

Ye lightnings, blaze to his honor ; ye thunders , sound 
his praise ; while reverberating clouds return the roar, 
and bellowing oceans propagate the tremendous anthem. 
Mutest of creatures, add your silent oratory, and display 
the triumphs of his meekness ; who, though he maketh 
the clouds his chariot, and treadeth upon the waves of 
the sea ; though the thunder is his voice, and the 
lightning his sword of justice ; yet, amidst the most 
abusive and cruel injuries, was submissive and lifted 
not his hand, was " dumb and opened not his mouth." 
Great source of day, address thy radiant homage to a far 
sublimer sun. Write, in all thy ample round, with 
every lucid beam, ! write a testimony to Him, who is 
the brightness of his Father's glory, who is the Sun of 
Righteousness to a sinful world ; and is risen, never to 
go down ; is risen, to be our everlasting light. Shine 
clear, ye skies ; look gay, thou earth ; let the floods clap 
their hands, and let every creature wear a smile : for he 
cometh, the Creator himself cometh, to be manifested in 
the flesh ; and with him comes pardon, peace, and joy ; 
every virtue and all felicity comes in his train. Angels 
and archangels, let your songs be of Jesus, and teach 
the very heavens to echo w T ith his adored and majestic 
name. Ye beheld him with greater transports of admi- 
ration, when you attended his agony in the garden, and 
saw him prostrate on the ground ; than when you beheld 
universal nature rising at his call, and saw the wonders 
of his creating might. Tune to loftiest notes your 
golden harps, and waken raptures, unknown before even 
in heavenly breasts ; while all that has breath swells the 
concert of harmony, and all that has being unites in the 
tribute of praise. 

Chiefly, let man exalt his voice ; let man, with dis- 
tinguished hosannas, hail the Redeemer. For man, he 
was stretched on the racking cross; for man, he was 
consigned to the gloomy sepulchre ; for man, he procured 
grace unmeasurable, and bliss inconceivable. How- 
ever different, therefore, in your age, or more different 
in your circumstances, be unanimous, men, in magni- 



DESCANT UPON CREATION. 211 

fying a Saviour, who is no respecter of persons ; who 
gave himself a ransom for all. Bend, ye kings, from 
your thrones of ivory and gold ; in your robes of imperial 
purple, fall prostrate at His feet ; who forsook a nobler 
throne, and laid aside more illustrious ensigns of majesty, 
that you might reign with God for ever and ever. 
Children of poverty , meanest of mortals (if any can be 
called poor, who are thus enriched ; if any can be 
accounted mean, who are thus ennobled); rejoice", 
greatly rejoice, in God your Saviour, who chose to be 
indigent, was willing to be contemned, that you might 
be entitled to the treasures, and be numbered with the 
princes of heaven. Sons of affliction, though harrassed 
with pain, and inured to anguish, ! change your 
groans into songs of gratitude ; let no complaining 
voice, no jarring string be heard in the universal sym- 
phony ; but glorify the Lamb, even in the fires* who 
himself bore greater torment than you feel, and has pro- 
mised you a share in the joy which he inherits ; who 
has made your sufferings short, and will make your rest 
eternal. Men of hoary locks, bending beneath a weight 
of years, and tottering on the brink of the grave ; let 
Christ be your support under all infirmities ; lean upon 
Christ, as the rock of your salvation. Let his name, 
his precious name, form the last accents which quiver 
on your pale expiring lips. And let this be the first 
that lisps on your tongues, ye tender infants ; remember 
your Redeemer in your earliest moments ; devote the 
choicest of your hours to the learning of his will, and 
the chief of your strength to the glorifying of his name ; 
who, in the perfection of health, and the very prime of 
manhood, was content to become a motionless and 
ghastly corpse ; that you might be girt with the vigor, 
and clothed with the bloom of eternal youth. 

Ye spirits of just men made perfect, who are released 
from the burden of the flesh, and freed from all the vex- 
atious solicitations of corruption in yourselves ; delivered 
from all the injurious effects of iniquity in others ; who 
* Is a. xxiv. 15. 



212 DESCANT UPON CREATION. 

sojourn no longer in the tents of strife, or the territories 
of disorder ; but are received into that pure, harmonious, 
holy society, where every one acts up to his amiable and 
exalted character ; where God himself is pleased gra- 
ciously and immediately to preside : you find, not with- 
out pleasing astonishment, your hopes improved into 
actual enjoyment, and your faith superseded by the 
beatic vision. You feel all your former shyness of 
behavior happily lost in the overflowings of unbounded 
love, and all your little differences of opinion entirely 
borne down by tides of invariable truth. Bless, there- 
fore, with all your enlarged powers, bless his infinitely 
larger goodness ; who, when he had overcome the 
sharpness of death, opened the gates of paradise, opened 
the kingdom of heaven, to all generations, and to every 
denomination of the faithful. . 

Ye men of holy conversation and humble tempers, 
think of Him who loved you, and washed you from your 
sins in his own blood ; think of him on your silent couch ; 
talk of him in every social interview ; glory in his 
excellencies ; make your boast of his obedience, and 
add, still continue to add, the incense of a dutiful life, to 
all the oblations of a grateful tongue. Weakest of be- 
lievers, who go mourning under a sense of guilt, and 
conflicting with the ceaseless assaults of temptation ; put 
off your sackcloth, and be girded with gladness ; because 
Jesus is as merciful to hear, as he is mighty to help ; 
because he is touched with the tenderest sympathizing 
concern for all your distresses ; and he lives, ever lives, 
to be your advocate with the Father. Why then should 
uneasy doubts sadden your countenances ? Why should 
desponding fears oppress your souls ? Turn, turn those 
disconsolate sighs into cheerful hymns, since you have 
his powerful intercession, and his inestimable merits, to be 
your anchor in all tribulations, to be your passport into 
eternal blessedness. 

Most of all, ye ministers of the sanctuary ; heralds 
commissioned from above ; lift, every one, his voice 
like a trumpet, and loudly proclaim the Redeemer. Get 



DESCANT Ui'ON CREATION. 213 

ye up, ye ambassadors of peace, get ye up into the high 
mountains, and spread far and wide the honors of the 
Lamb, " that was slain, but is alive for evermore." 
Teach every sacred roof to resound with his fame, and 
every human heart to glow with his love. Declare, as 
far as the force of words will go, declare the inexhaust- 
ible fullness of that great atonement, whose merits are 
commensurate with the glories of the Divinity.* Tell 
the sinful wretch what pity yearns in ImmanuePs bowels ; 
what blood he has spilt, what agonies he has endured, 
what w T onders he has wrought for the salvation of his 
enemies. Invite the indigent to become rich ; entreat 
the guilty to accept of pardon ; because with the cruci- 
fied Jesus is plenteous redemption, and all -sufficiency to 
save. While you, placed in conspicuous stations, pour 
the joyful sound ; may I, as I steal through the humble 
vale of life, catch the pleasing accents ! For me, the 
Author of all blessings became a curse : for me, his 
bones were dislocated and his flesh was torn : he hung 
wdth streaming veins, and an agonizing soul, on the 
cross for me. ! may I, in my little sphere, and amidst 
the scanty circle of my acquaintance, at least whisper 

* If in this place and others, I have spoke magnificently of the 
blood of Christ, and its insuperable efficacy to expiate guilt, I think 
it is no more than is expressed in a very celebrated hymn, written 
by one of the greatest wits, who had also been one of the greatest 
libertines, and afterwards commenced one of the most remarkable 
penitents, in France ,- a hymn, which even Mr. Boyle confesses to be 
a very fine one ; which another great critic calls an admirable one ; 
and which, a genius superior to them both, recommends as a noble 
one. — Spect. vol. vii. No. 513. 

The author, having acknowledged his crimes to be, beyond mea- 
sure heinous, and almost beyond forgiveness provoking ; so provok- 
ing, as to render tears from such eyes offensive, and prayers from 
such lips abominable: — composeshimself to submit, without theleast 
repining sentiment; to submit, even with praise and adoration, to 
the most dreadful doom. Accordingly, he stands in resigned expec- 
tation of being instantly struck by the bolts of vengeance ; but, with 
a turn of thought equally surprising and sprightly; with a faith pro- 
perly founded, and happily firm, he adds : 

Yet where 1 O where ! can ev'n thy thunders fall T 
Christ's blood o'erspreads and shields me from them all. 



214 



DESCANT UPON CREATION. 



these glad transporting tidings ; whisper them from my 
own heart, that they may surely reach, and sweetly 
penetrate theirs. 

But, when men and angels raise the grand hymn ; 
when all worlds, and all beings, add their collective 
acclamations, this full, fervent, and universal chorus 
will be so inferior to the riches of the Redeemer's 
grace, so disproportionate to the magnificence of his 
glory, that it will seem but to debase the unutterable 
subject it attempts to exalt. The loud hallelujah will 
die away in the solemn mental eloquence of prostrate, 
rapturous, silent adoration : 

O goodness infinite ! goodness immense ! 

And love that passeth knowledge J Words are vain ; 

Language is lost in wonders so divine. 

" Come, then, expressive silence, muse his praise." 




CONTEMPLATIONS 



ON 



THE NIGHT. 



Night is fair Virtue's immemorial friend : 

The conscious moan, through every distant age, 

Has held a lamp to Wisdom, 

Night Thoughts. 



TO 



PAUL ORCHARD, Esq., 



STOKE ABBEY, IN DEVONSHIRE. 



Dear Sir, 

As your honored father was pleased to make choice of me to 
answer in your name at the font, and to exercise a sort of guardian- 
ship over your spiritual interests ; permit me, by putting these little 
treatises into your hand, to fulfil some part of that solemn obligation. 

Gratitude for many signal favors, and a conscientious regard to 
my sacred engagement, have long ago inspired my breast with the 
warmest wishes, both for your true dignity and real happiness. Nor 
can I think of a more endearing or more effectual way of advancing 
either the one or the other, than to set before you a sketch of your 
excellent father's character. Illustrious examples are the most win- 
ning incitements to virtue ; and none can come attended with such 
particular recommendations to you, Sir, as the pattern of that worthy 
person, from whom you derive your very being. 

A most cordial and reverential esteem for the Divine Word, was 
one of his remarkable qualities. Those oracles of Heaven were his 
principal delight and his inseparable companions. Your gardens, 
your solitary walks, and the hedges of your fields, can witness with 
what an unwearied assiduity he exercised himself in the law of the 
Lord.* From hence he fetched his maxims of wisdom, and formed 
his judgment of things. The sacred precepts were the model of his 
temper and the guide of his life, while the precious promises were 
the joy of his heart and his portion forever. 

Improving company was another of his most relishing pleasures. 
Few gentlemen were better furnished either with richness of fancy, 
or copiousness of expression, to bear a shining part in conversation. 
With these talents he always endeavored to give some useful, gene- 
rally some religious turn to the discourse. Nor did he ever reflect 
with greater complacency on his social hours, than when they had 
tended to glorify the Eternal Majesty, and to awaken in himself and 
others a more lively spirit of devotion. 

* Josh. xxiv. 27. 
19 



213 DEDICATION. 



To project for the good of others, was his frequent study, and tc 
carry those benevolent contrivances into execution, his favorite 
employ. When visited by the young persons of the neighborhood, 
far from taking an ungraceful pride to initiate them in a debauchery, 
or confirm them in a riotous habit, it was his incessant aim, by finely- 
adapted persuasives, to encourage them in industry, and establish 
them m a course of sobriety ; to guard them against the allurements 
of vice, and animate them with the principles of piety ; a noble kind 
of nospitality this, which will probably transmit its beneficial influ- 
ence to their earthly possessions, to their future families, and even 
to their everlasting state. 

A conviction of human indigence, and a thorough persuasion of 
the divine all-sufficiency, induced him to be frequent in prayer. To 
prostrate himself in profound adoration, before that infinitely exalted 
Being who dwells in light inaccessible, was his glory ; to implore the 
crntinuance of the Almighty favor, and the increase of all Christian 
graces, was his gain. In those moments, no doubt, he remembered 
you, Sir, with a particular earnestness, and lodged many an ardent 
petition in the court of heaven for his infant son. Cease not to 
second them with your own devout supplications, that they may 
descend upon your head "in the fulness of the blessings of the 
Gospel of peace." 

To give their genuine lustre to all his other endowments, he was 
careful to maintain an humble wAnd. Though his friends might 
admire his superior abilities, or his acquaintance applaud his ex- 
emplary behavior, he saw how he fell short of the mark of his high 
calling ; saw, and lamented his defects : saw, and renounced him- 
self; relying, for final acceptance and endless felicity, on a better 
righteousness than his own ; even on the transcendently perfect right- 
eousness and inconceivably precious death of Jesus the Redeemer. 
This was the rock of his hope, and the very crown of his rejoicing. 

These, Sir, are some of the distinguishing characteristics of your 
deceased parent. As you had the misfortune to lose so valuable a 
relative, before you was capable of forming any acquaintance with 
his person, I flatter myself you will the more attentively observe his 
picture ; this his moral picture, designed, not to be set in gold, or 
sparkle in enamel, but to breathe in your spirit, and to live in all 
your conduct; which, though it be entirely your own, calculated 
purely for yourself, may possibly, (like family pieces in your parlor, 
that glance an eye upon as many as enter the room) make some 
pleasing and useful impression on every beholder. May every one, 
charmed with the beautiful image, catch its resemblance ; and each 
in his respective sphere, " go and do likewise." 

But you, Sir, are peculiarly concerned to copy the amiable ori- 
ginal. As the order of an indulgent Providence has made you heir 
of the affluent circumstances, let not a gay and thoughtless inadvert- 
ence cut you off* from the richer inheritance of these noble qualifica- 
tions. These will be your security amidst all the glittering dangers, 
which are inseparable from blooming years, and an elevated situa- 
tion in life: these are your path, your sure and only path, to true 



DEDICATION. 219 



greatness and solid happiness. Tread in these steps, and you can- 
not fail to be the darling of your friends, and the favorite of Heaven : 
tread in these steps, and you will give inexpressible joy to one of 
the best of mothers; you will become an extensive blessing to your 
fellow-creatures ; and which, after such most engaging motives, is 
scarce worthy to be mentioned, you will be the delight, the honor, 
and 'he boast of 

Dear Sir, your very affectionate godfather, 

And most faithful humble servant, 

JAMES HERVEY. 

Weston Favell, near Northampton, July 14, 1747 



PREFACE. 



We have already exercised our speculations on the Tombs and 
Flowers, surveying* nature covered with the deepest horrors, and 
arrayed in the richest beauties. Allegory taught many of the 
objects to speak the language of virtue ; while Imagination lent 
her coloring, to give the lessons an engaging air ; and this with a 
view of imitating that divine Instructor, who commissioned the 
lily,* in her silver suit, to remonstrate in the ear of unbelieving 
reason ; who sent his disciples (men ordained to teach the universe) 
to learn maxims of the last importance from the most insignificant 
birds,* that wander through the paths of the air, from the very 
meanest Herbs* that are scattered over the face of the ground. \ 

Emboldened by the kind acceptance of the preceding sketches, 
I beg leave to confide in the same benevolence of taste, for the pro- 
tection and support of the two remaining Essays, which exhibit a 
prospect of still life and grand operation ; which moralise on the 
most composed and magnificent appearances of things : in which 
fancy is again suffered to introduce her imagery, but only as the 

* Matt. vi. 26, 28, 29, 30. 

t Celebrated writers, as Demosthenes and Cicero, Tliucydides and Livy, are observed 
to have a style peculiar to themselves. Now, whoever considers the discourses of 
Christy will find him distinguishing himself by a style which may properly be called 
his own. Majestic, yet familiar ; happily uniting dignity with condescension ; it 
consists in teaching his followers the sublimest truths by spiritualising on the most 
common occurrences ; which, besides its being level to the lowest apprehensions, 
and admirably adapted to steal into the most inattentive heart, is accompanied 
with this very singular advantage — that it turns even the sphere of business into a 
school of instruction, and renders the most ordinary objects a set of monitors, ever 
soliciting our regard, because ever present to our senses. So that, I believe, it 
may be said of this amiable method, in which our Lord conveyed, as well as of that 
powerful energy which attended his doctrines, that never man spake like this man. 
The harvest approaching he reminds his disciples of a far more important harvest ; 
John, iv. 35. MatU xiii. 39, when immortal beings shall be reaped from the grave, 
and gathered in from all the quarters of the earth ; when every human creature 
shall sustain the character of valuable wheat or despicable tares; and, accordingly, 
be lodged in mansions of everlasting security, or consigned over to the rage of un- 
quenchable fire. In his charge to fishermen, when they are commencing preachers, 
Matt. iv. 19, he exhorts them, conformably to the nature of their late occupation, 
to use the same assiduity and address in winning souls, as they were wont to exer- 
cise in catching the finny prey. For the farther illustration of this no less useful 
than curious subject, I would refer my reader to a valuable note in Sir Isaac JVfeio- 
ton's Observations on the Prophecies, p. 148, 4to. edition. 

19* 



222 PREFACE. 



handmaid of truth ; in order to dress her person and display her 
charms, to engage the attention and win the love even of the gay 
and of the fashionable ; which is more likely to be effected by 
forming agreeable pictures of nature, and deriving instructive ob- 
servations, than by the laborious method of long-deduced argu- 
ments or close-connected reasonings. The contemplation of the 
heavens and the earth, of their admirable properties and beneficial 
changes, has always afforded the most exalted gratification to the 
human mind. In compliance with this prevailing taste, I have 
drawn my serious admonitions from the stupendous theatre and 
variegated scenery of the universe ; that the reader may learn his 
duty from his very pleasures, and may gather wisdom, mingled 
with virtue, from the most refined entertainments and noblest 
delights. 

The evening, drawing her sables over the world, and gently 
darkening into night, is a season peculiarly proper for sedate con- 
sideration. All circumstances concur to hush our passions, and 
soothe our cares; to tempt our steps abroad, and prompt our 
thoughts to serious reflection. 



■ Then is the time 



For those whom wisdom and whom nature charm 
To steal themselves from the degenerate crowd, 
And soar above this little scene of things ; 
To tread low-thoughted vice beneath their feet; 
To soothe the throbbing passions into peace ; 
And woo lone quiet in her silent walks.* 

The favor I would solicit for the first of the following composi- 
tions, is, that it may be permitted to attend in such retired and 
contemplative excursions ; to attend, if not under the character of 
a friend, at least in the humble capacity of a servant or page — as 
a servant, to open the door of meditation, and remove every impe- 
diment to those best exercises of the mind, which blend advantage 
with amusement, and improve while they delight ; as a page, to 
gather up the unstable, fluctuating train of fancy, and collect her 
fickle powers into a consistent, regular, and useful habit of 
thinking. 

The other, conversant among the starry regions, would lead the 
imagination through those beautiful tracts of azure, and point out 
to the judgment some of those astonishing particulars which so 
eminently signalise the celestial worlds : a prospect this, to which 
curiosity attracts our eyes, and to which Scripture itself often 
directs our study ; a prospect beyond all others most excellently 
calculated to enlarge the soul, and ennoble its conceptions; to 
give the grandest apprehensions of the everlasting God, and 
create sentiments of becoming superiority with relation to all tran- 

* Thomson's Autumn. 



PREFACE. 223 



sitory interest ; in a word, to furnish faith with the surest founda- 
tion for a steady affiance and true magnanimity of spirit, to afford 
piety the strongest motives, both for a lively gratitude and pro- 
found veneration. 

While Galileo lifts his tube, and discovers the prodigious mag- 
nitude of those radiant orbs ; while Newton measures their amaz- 
ing distances, and unites the whole system in harmonious order, by 
the subtle influences of attraction ; I would only, like the herald 
befcre that illustrious Hebrew,* proclaim at every turn, "Bow the 
knee, and adore the Amiighty Maker ; magnify his eternal name, 
and make his praise, like all his works, to be glorious" 

•GcB.xli.43. 




CONTEMPLATIONS 



THE NIGHT. 




I^HE business of the day dispatched, 
and the sultry heats abated, in- 
vited me to the recreation of a 
walk ; a walk in one of the finest 
recesses of the country, and in one 
of the most pleasant evenings which 
the summer season produced. 

The limes and elms, uniting 
their branches over my head, 
formed a verdant canopy, and cast a most 
refreshing shade. Under my feet lay a carpet 
of nature's velvet, grass intermingled with 
moss and embroidered with flowers. Jes- 
samines, in conjunction with woodbines, 
twined around the trees, displaying their 
artless beauties to the eye, and diffusing their 



226 CONTEMPLATIONS 



delicious sweets through the air. On either side, the 
boughs, rounded into a set of regular arches, opened a 
view into the distant fields, and presented me with a 
prospect of the bending skies. The little birds, all joyous 
and grateful for the favors of the light, were paying their 
acknowledgments in a tribute of harmony, and soothing 
themselves to rest with songs ; while a French horn, 
from a neighboring seat, sent its melodious accents, 
softened by the length of their passage, to complete the 
concert of the grove. 

Roving in this agreeable manner, my thoughts were 
exercised on a subject still more agreeable than the 
season or the scene ; I mean our late signal victory over 
the united forces of intestine treason and foreign inva- 
sion ; a victory which pours joy through the present age, 
and will transmit its influence to generations yet unborn. 
— Are not all the blessings, which can endear society, 
or render life itseif desirable, centered in our present 
happy constitution and auspicious government ? Were 
they not all struck at, by that impious and horrid blow, 
meditated at Rome, levelled by France, and seconded 
by factious spirits at home ? Who then can be sufficiently 
thankful for the gracious interposition of Providence, 
which has not only averted the impending ruin, but 
turned it, with aggravated confusion, on the authors of 
our troubles ? 

Methinks, every thing valuable which I possess, eyery 
thing charming which I behold, conspire to enhance this 
ever-memorable event. To this it is owing that I can 
ramble unmolested along the vale of private life, and 
taste all the innocent satisfactions of a contemplative 
retirement. Had rebellion* succeeded in her detestable 
designs, instead of walking with security and compla- 
cence in these flowery paths, I might have met the 
assassin with his dagger, or have been obliged to aban- 

* Referring to the rebellion set on foot in the year 1745. which 
for several months made a very alarming progress in the north, but 
was happily extinguished by the glorious and decisive victory at 
Culiuden* 



ON THE NIGHT. 227 

don my habitation, and " embrace the rock for a shelter. " 
Farewell then, ye fragrant shades, seats of meditation 
and calm repose ! I should have been driven from your 
loved retreats, to make way for some barbarous, some 
insulting victor. Farewell then, ye pleasing toils, and 
wholesome amusements of my rural hours ; I should no 
more have reared the tender flower to the sun ; no more 
have taught the espalier to expand her boughs ; nor have 
fetched any longer from my kitchen-garden, the purest 
supplies of health. 

Had rebellion succeeded in her detestable designs, 
instead of being regaled with the music of the woods, I 
might have been alarmed with the sound of the trumpet 
and all the thunder of war; instead of being entertained 
with this beautiful landscape, I might have beheld our 
houses ransacked, and our villages plundered ; I might 
have beheld oar fenced cities encompassed with armies, 
and our fruitful fields " clothed with desolation;" or 
have been shocked with the more frightful images of 
11 garments rolled in blood," and of a ruffian's blade 
reeking from a brother's heart : instead of peace, with 
her cheering olives, sheltering our abodes ; instead of 
justice, with her impartial scale, securing our goods ; 
persecution had brandished her sword, and slavery 
clanked her chains. 

Nor are these miseries imaginary only, or the creatures 
of a groundless panic. There are, in a neighboring 
kingdom, who very lately experienced them in all their 
rigor.* And if the malignant spirit of popery had forced 
itself into our church ; if an abjured pretender had cut 
his way to our throne ; we could have no reason to 
expect a mitigation of their severity on our behalf. But 
supposing the tender mercies of a bigoted usurper to 
have been somewhat less cruel, where, alas ! would 

* See a pamphlet entitled, " Popery always the Same ;" which 

. contains a narrative of the persecutions and severe hardships lately 

suffered by the Protestants in the southern parts of France , and 

closes with a most seasonable, alarming, and spirited address to the 

inhabitants of Great Britain. Printed, 1746. 



228 CONTEMPLATIONS 

have been the encouragement to cultivate our little por- 
tion ; or what pleasure could arise from an improved 
spot, if both the one and the other lay every moment at 
the mercy of lawless power. This imbittering circum- 
stance would spoil their relish ; and by rendering them 
a precarious , would render them a joyless acquisition. 
In vain might the vine spread her purple clusters, in 
vain be lavish of her generous juices, if tyranny, like a 
ravenous harpy, should be always hovering over the 
bowl, and ready to snatch it from the lip of industry, or 
to wrest it from the hand of liberty. 

Liberty , that dearest of names, and property, that best 
of charters, give an additional, an inexpressible charm 
to every delightful object. See, how the declining sun 
has beautified the western clouds, has arrayed them in 
crimson, and skirted them with gold ; such a refinement 
of our domestic bliss is property ; such an improvement 
of our public privileges is liberty. When the lamp of 
day shall withdraw his beams, there will still remain 
the same collection of floating vapors ; but ! how 
changed, how gloomy ! The carnation-streaks are faded, 
the golden edgings are worn away, and all the lovely 
tinges are lost in a leaden-colored lowering sadness. Such 
would be the aspect of all these scenes of beauty, and 
all these abodes of pleasure, if exposed continually to 
the caprice of arbitrary sway, or held in a state of abject 
and cringing dependence. 

The sun has almost finished his daily race, and hastens 
to the goal. He descends lower and lower, till his 
chariot wheels seem to hover on the utmost verge of the 
sky. What is somewhat remarkable, the orb of light, 
upon the point of setting, grows considerably broader. 
The shadows of objects, just before they become blended 
in undistinguishable darkness, are exceedingly length- 
enedf like blessings, little prized while possessed, but 
highly esteemed the rery instant they are preparing for 
their flight; bitterly regretted, when once they are, gone, 
and to be seen no more. 

* Majoresque cadunt altis de montibus umbrce. — Virgil. 



ON THE NIGHT. 229 



The radiant globe is now half-immersed beneath the 
dusky earth ; or, as the ancient poets speak, is shooting 
into the ocean, and sinks in the western sea. And could 
I view the sea at this juncture, it would yield a most 
amusing and curious spectacle. The rays, striking hori- 
zontally on the liquid element, give it the appearance 
of floating glass ; or, reflected in many a different direc- 
tion, form a beautiful multiplicity of colors. A stranger, 
as he walks along the sandy beach, and, lost in pensive 
attention, listens to the murmurings of the restless flood, 
is agreeably alarmed by the gay decorations of the surface. 
With entertainment and with wonder, he sees the curl- 
ing waves, here glistening with white, there glowing 
with purple ; in one place wearing an azure tincture, in 
another glancing a cast of undulating green ; in the 
whole exhibiting a piece of fluid scenery that may vie 
with yonder pencil tapestries, though wrought in the 
loom, arul tinged with the dyes of heaven. 

While I am transported by fancy to the shores of the 
ocean, the great luminary is sunk beneath the horizon, 
and totally disappears. The whole face of the ground is 
overspread with shades or with what one of the finest 
painters of nature calls, a dun obscurity. Only a few 
very superior eminences are tipped with streaming 
silver. The tops of groves and lofty towers catch the 
last smiles of day,* are still irradiated by the departing 
beams : but, ! how transient is the distinction ! how 
momentary the gift! Like all the blessings which 
mortals enjoy below, it is gone almost as soon as granted. 
See ! how languishingly it trembles on the leafy spire, 
and glimmers with a dying faintness on the mountain's 
brow. The little vivacity that remains, decays every 
moment. It can no longer hold its station. While I 
speak, it expires, an J resigns the world to the gradual 
approaches of night. 

* See this remarkable appearance delicately described, and 
wrought into a comparison, which, in my opinion, is one of the most 
just, beautiful, and noble pieces of imagery to be found in modern 
poetry. — Night Thoughts, No. II. 

20 



230 CONTEMPLATIONS 



• Now twilight grey- 



Has in her sober liv'ry all things clad.* 

Every object, a little while ago, glared with light ; 
but now all appears under a more qualified lustre. The 
animals harmonize with the insensible creation ; and 
what \v 7 as gay in those, as well as glittering in this, 
gives place to an universal gravity. In the meadows 
all was jocund and sportive ; but now the gamesome 
lambs are grown weary of their frolics, and the tired 
shepherd has imposed silence on his pipe. In the 
branches all was sprightliness and song; but now the 
lively green is wrapped in the descending glooms, and 
no tuneful airs are heard, only the plaintive stock-dove 
cooing mournfully through the grove; Should I now be 
vain and trifling, the heavens and the earth would 
rebuke my unseasonable levity ! Therefore be these 
moments devoted to thoughts sedate as the closing day, 
solemn as the face of things. And, indeed, however 
my social hours are enlivened with innocent pleasantry, 
let every evening, in her sable habit, toll the bell to 
serious consideration. Nothing can be more proper for 
a person who walks on the borders of eternity, and is 
hasting continually to his final audit ; nothing more 
proper than daily to slip away from the circle of amuse- 
ments, and frequently to relinquish the hurry of business, 
in order to consider and adjust "the things that belong 
to his peace." 

Since the sun is departed, from whence can it pro- 
ceed, that I am not involved in pitchy darkness? 
Whence these remainders of diminished brightness, 
which, though scarcely forming a refulgence, soften 
and soothe the horrors of night ? I see not the shining 
ruler, yet am cheered with a real though faint communi- 
cation of his splendor. Does he remember us, in his 
progress through other climes ? Does he send a detach- 
ment of his rays to escort us during his-personal absence ; 
or to cover (if I may use the military term) our retreat 
from the scene of action? Has he bequeathed us a 
* Milton's Paradise Lost. 



ON THE NIGHT. 231 

dividend of his beams, sufficient to render our circum- 
stances easy, and our situation agreeable, till sleep pours 
its soft oppression on the organs of sense, till sleep sus- 
pends all the operations of our hands, and entirely 
supersedes any farther occasion for the light ? 

No ; it is ill-judged and unreasonable to ascribe this 
beneficent conduct to the sun. Not unto him, not unto 
him, but unto his Almighty Maker we are obliged for 
this pleasing attendant, this valuable legacy. — The 
gracious Author of our being has so disposed the collec- 
tion of circumambient air, as to make it productive of 
this fine and wonderful effect. The sun-beams, falling 
on the higher parts of the aerial fluid, instead of passing 
on in straight lines, are bent inwards and conducted to 
our sight. Their natural course is over-ruled, and they 
are bidden to wheel about on purpose to favor us with a 
welcome and salutary visit : by which means, the bless- 
ing of light and the season of business are considerably 
prolonged ; and, what is a very endearing circumstance, 
prolonged most considerably ; when the vehement heats 
of summer incline the student to postpone his walk till 
the temperate evening prevails ; when the important 
labors of the harvest call the husbandman abroad before 
the day is fully risen. 

After all the ardors of the sultry day, how reviving 
is this coolness ! This gives new verdure to the fading 
plants, new vivacity to the withering flowers, and a 
more exquisite fragrance to their mingled scents : by 
this, the air also receives a new force, and is qualified 
to exert itself with greater activity — qualified to brace 
our limbs, to heave our lungs, and to co-operate 
with a brisker impulse in perpetuating the circulation 
of our blood. This I might call the grand alembic of 
nature, which distils her most sovereign cordial , the 
refreshing dews. Incessant heat would rob us of their 
beneficial agency, and oblige them to evaporate in 
imperceptible exhalations. Turbulent winds, or even 
the gentler motions of Aurora's fan, would dissipate the 
rising vapors, and not surfer them to form a coalition. 



232 CONTEMPLATIONS 

But, favored by the stillness, and condensed by the 
coolness of the night, they unite in pearly drops, and 
create that finely -tempered humidity which cheers the 
vegetable world, as sleep exhilarates the animal. 

Not unlike to these are the advantages of solitude. 
The w r orld is a troubled ocean, and who can erect stable 
purposes on its fluctuating waves? The world is a 
school of wrong ; and who does not feel himself warping 
to its pernicious influences ?* On this sea of glass, how 
insensibly we slide from our own steadfastness!! Some 
sacred truth, which was struck in lively characters on 
our souls, is obscured, if not obliterated ; some worthy 
resolution, which heaven had wrought in our breasts, is 
shaken, if not overthrown ; some enticing vanity, which 
we had solemnly renounced, again practises its wiles, 
and again captivates our affections. How often has an 
unwary glance kindled a fever of irregular desire in our 
hearts ! How often has a word of applause dropped 
luscious poison into our ears ; or some disrespectful 
expression raised a gust of passion in our bosoms ! Our 
innocence is of so tender a constitution, that it suffers in 
the promiscuous crowd. Our purity is of so delicate a 
complexion, that it scarce touches on the world without 
contracting a stain. We see, we hear, with peril. 

But here safety dwells; every meddling and intrusive 
avocation is secluded ; silence holds the door against the 
strife of tongues, and all the impertinences of idle con- 
versation. The busy swarm of vain images and cajoling 
temptations, which beset us, with a buzzing importunity, 
amidst the gaieties of life, are chased by these thickening 
shades. Here I may, without disturbance, commune 
with my own heart ; and learn that best of sciences, to 
know myself. Here the soul may rally her dissipated 
powers, and grace recover its native energy. This is 
the opportunity to rectify every evil impression ; to 

* Nunquam a turba mores, quos extuli, refero. Aliquid, ex eo quod 
composui, turbatur : aliquid, ex his quze fugavi, redit. Inimica est 
multorum conversation — Seneca. 

\ Rev. xv. 2. 



ON THE NIGHT. 233 

expel the poison, and guard against the contagion, of 
corrupting examples. This is the place, where I may 
with advantage apply myself to subdue the rebel within ; 
and be master, not of a sceptre, but of myself. Throng 
then, ye ambitious the levees of the powerful ; I will 
be punctual in my assignations with solitude. To a 
mind intent upon its own improvement, solitude has 
charms incomparably more engaging than the entertain- 
ments presented in the theatre or the honors conferred in 
the drawing-room. 

I said, solitude. — Am I then alone*! — 'Tis true, my 
acquaintances are at a distance. I have stole away from 
company, and am remote from all human observation. 
But that is an alarming thought. 

Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth, 
Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep.* 

Perhaps, there may be numbers of those invisible 
beings patrolling this same retreat, and joining with me 
in contemplating the Creator's works ; perhaps, those 
ministering spirits , who rejoice at the conversion of a 
sinner, and hold up the goings of the righteous, may 
follow us to the lonely recess ; and even in our most 
solitary moments be our constant attendants. What a 
pleasing awe is awakened by such a reflection ! How 
venerable it renders my retired walks ! I am struck 
with reverence, as under the roof of some sacred edifice, 
or in the presence-chamber of some mighty monarch. ! 
may I never bring any pride of imagination, nor indulge 
the least dissolute affection, where such refined and 
exalted intelligences exercise their watch ! 

5 Tis possible, that I am encompassed with such a 
cloud of witnesses ; but it is certain that Godj the infinite 
eternal God, is now and ever with me. The great 
Jehovah, before whom all the angelic armies bow their 
heads and veil their faces, surrounds me, supports me, 
pervades me. " In him I live, move, and have my 
being. 55 The whole world is his august temple ; and, 

* Milton's Paradise Lost 
20* 



234 CONTEMPLATIONS 

in the most sequestered corner, I appear before his 
adorable Majesty, no less than when I worship in his 
house, or kneel at his altar. In every place, therefore, 
let me pay him the homage of a heart cleansed from idols, 
and devoted to his service. In every circumstance let 
me feel no ambition, but to please him ; nor covet any 
happiness, but to enjoy Mm. 

How sublime is the description, and how striking the 
sentiment, in that noble passage of the Psalms ? Whither 
shall I go from thy spirit, or whither shall I flee from thy 
presence ? If I climb up into the heights of heaven, thou 
art there enthroned in light : if I go down to the depths 
of the grave, thou art there also in thy pavilion of dark- 
ness : if I retire to the remotest eastern climes, where the 
morning first takes wing : if, swifter than the darting ray, 
/ pass to the opposite regions of the west, and remain in 
the uttermost parts of the sea :* shall I, in that distant 
situation, be beyond thy reach ; or, by this sudden 
transition, escape thy notice ? So far from it, that could 
I, with one glance of thought, transport myself beyond 
all the bounds of creation, I should still be encircled 
with the immensity of thy essence ; or rather, still be 
enclosed in the hollow of thy hand. Awful yet delight- 
ful truth ! Let it be interwoven with every thought, 
and become one with the very consciousness of my 
existence ! that I may continually walk with God, and 
conduct myself, in every step of my behavior, " as see- 
ing him that is invisible." 

They are the happy persons; felicity, true felicity, is 
all their own, who lived under an habitual sense of God's 
omnipresence, and a sweet persuasion of his special love. 
If dangers threaten, their impregnable defence is at hand. 
Nothing can be so near to terrify, as their Almighty 
Guardian to secure them. To these the hours can never 



* Psal. cxxxix. 7, 8, 9. — There is, I think, an additional strength 
and beauty in the thought, if, with the learned Mr. Mudge, we sup- 
pose an antithesis between the two clauses of the last verse, as there 
evidently is between those of the preceding ; and that they expTess, 
in a poetical style, the extremities of the east and the west. 



ON THE NIGHT. 235 



be tedious, and it is impossible for them to be alone. Do 
they step aside from the occupations of animal life ? A 
more exalted set of employments, engage their attention. 
They address themselves, in all the various acts of de- 
votion, to their heavenly Father, who now sees in secret, 
and will hereafter reward them openly : they spread all 
their wants before his indulgent eye, and disburden all 
their sorrows into his compassionate bosom. Do they 
withdraw from human society ? They find themselves 
under the more immediate regards of their Maker. If 
they resign the satisfactions of social intercourse, it is 
to cultivate a correspondence with the condescending 
Deity, and taste the pleasures of divine friendship. 
What is such a state, but the very suburbs of heaven ? 
What is such a conduct, but an antepast of eternal 
blessedness ? 

Now, my soul, the day is ended. The hours are all 
fled : they are fled to the supreme Judge, and have given 
in their evidence ; an evidence registered in heaven, and 
to be produced at the great audit. Happy they whose 
improvement has kept pace with the fleeting minutes ; 
who have seized the important fugitives, and engaged 
them in the pursuit of wisdom, or devoted them to the 
service of virtue. 

Fugitives indeed they are. Our moments slip away 
silently and insensibly : the thief steals not more unper- 
ceived from the pillaged house. And will the runagates 
never stop ? No : wherever we are, however employed, 
time pursues his incessant course. Though we are list- 
less and dilatory, the great measurer of our days presses 
on ; still presses on in his unwearied career,* and whirls 
our weeks, nnd months, and years away. Is it not then 
surprisingly strange, to hear people complain of the 
tediousness of their time, and how heavy it hangs upon 
their hands ? to see them contrive a variety of amusing 
artifices to accelerate its flight, and get rid of its burden ? 
Ah ! thoughtless mortals ! Why need you urge the 
headlong torrent ? Your days are swifter than a post, 
* Sed fugit interea, fugit irreparabile tempus.- Virgil. 



236 CONTEMPLATIONS 



which, carrying despatches of the last importance, with 
unremitted speed scours the road. They pass away like 
the nimble ships, which have the wind in their wings, 
and skim along the watery plain. They hasten to their 
destined period with the rapidity of an eagle, which 
leaves the stormy blast behind her, while she cleaves 
the air, and darts upon her prey.* 

Now the day is gone, how short it appears ! When 
my fond eye beheld it in perspective, it seemed a very 
considerable space. Minutes crowded upon minutes, 
and hours ranged behind hours, exhibited an extensive 
draught, and flattered me with a long progression of 
pleasures ; but, upon a retrospective view, how wonder- 
fully is the scene altered! The landscape, large and 
spacious, which a warm fancy drew, brought to the test 
of cool experience, shrinks into a span : just as the 
shores vanish, and mountains dwindle to a spot, when 
the sailor, surrounded by skies and ocean, throws his 
last look on his native land. How clearly do I now dis- 
cover the cheat ! May it never impose upon my unwary 
imagination again ! I find, there is nothing abiding on 
this side eternity. A long duration, in a state of finite 
existence, is mere illusion. 

Perhaps the healthy and the gay may not readily credit 
the serious truth ; especially from a young pen, and new 
to its employ. Let us then refer ourselves to the decision 
of the ancient. Ask some venerable old person, who is 
just marching off the mortal stage, How many have been 
the days of the years of thy life ?f It was a monarch's 
question ; and therefore can want no recommendation to 

* Job, ix. 25, 26. — By these three very expressive images, the in- 
spired poet represents the unintermitted and rapid flight of time. 
The passage is illustrated with great judgment, and equal delicacy, 
in Dr. Grey's most ingenious abridgment of Schultens : Quse tribus 
in elementis velocissimge, hie admirabili cum emphasi congeruntur. In 
terris, nil pernicius cursore, et quidem laeti quid ferente. Rapidius 
tamen adhuc undas, non secant, sed supervolant, navigiola papyro con- 
texta. Omnium rapidissime aerem grandibus alis permetitur aquila 
prsecipiti lapsu ruens in prsedam. 

f Gen. xlvii. 8.— Heb. Bib. 



ON THE NIGHT. 237 



the fashionable world. Observe how he shakes his 
hoary locks, and from a deep-felt conviction replies, 
" Fourscore years have finished their rounds, to furrow 
these cheeks, and clothe this head in snow. Such a 
term may seem long and large to inconsiderate youth. 
But ! how short, how scanty, to one that has made 
the experiment ! Short, as a gleam of transient sun- 
shine ; scanty, as the shadow that departeth. Methinks 
it was but yesterday, that I exchanged my childish sports 
for manly exercises ; and now I am resigning them both 
for the sleep of death. As soon as we are born, we 
begin to draw to our end : and how small is the interval 
between the cradle and the tomb !" ! may we believe 
this testimony of mature age ! May every evening bring 
it with clearer evidence to our minds ! And may we 
form such an estimate of the little pittance, while it is 
upon the advancing hand, as we shall certainly make, 
when the sands are all run down ! 

Let me add one reflection on the work to be done, 
while this shuttle is flying through the loom ;* a work 
of no small difficulty, yet of the utmost consequence ! 
Hast thou not seen, hast thou not known, the excellent 
of the earth ; who were living images of their Maker ? 
His divine likeness was transfused into their hearts, and 
beamed forth in all their conduct ; beamed forth in meek- 
ness of wisdom, and purity of affection ; in all the tender 
offices of love, and all the nobler efforts of zeal. To be 
stamped with the same beautiful signature, and to be 
followers of them as they were of Christ ; this, this is 
thy business. On the accomplishment of this, thy eternal 
all depends. And will an affair of such unspeakable 
weight admit of a moment's delay, or consists with the 
least remissness ? Especially, since much of thy ap- 
pointed time is already elapsed, and the remainder is 
all uncertainty, save only that it is in the very act to fly. 
Or suppose thou hadst made a covenant with the grave, 
and wast assured of reaching the age of Methuselah, 
how soon would even such a lease expire ! Extend it, 
* My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle. — Job, vii. 6. 



238 CONTEMPLATIONS 

if you please, still farther ; and let it be co-existent with 
nature itself. How inconsiderable is the addition ! For 
yet a little while, and the commissioned archangel lifts 
up his head to heaven, and swears by the Almighty 
name, that time shall he no longer * Then, abused oppor- 
tunities will never return ; and new opportunities will 
never more be offered. Then, should negligent mortals 
wish — wish ever so passionately — for a few hours — a 
few moments only — to De thrown back from the opening 
eternity ; thousands of worlds would not be able to pro- 
cure the grant. 

* This alludes to the beginning of Revelations the tenth ; which, 
abstracted from its spiritual meaning, and considered only as a 
stately piece of machinery, well deserves our attention ; and I will 
venture to say, has not its superior, perhaps not its equal, in any of 
the most celebrated masters of Greece and Rome. All that is gloomy 
or beautiful in the atmosphere, all that is striking or magnificent in 
every element, is taken to heighten the idea. Yet nothing is dispro- 
portionate, but an uniform air of ineffable majesty greatens, exalts, 
ennobles the whole. Be pleased to observe the aspect of this august 
personage : All the brightness of the sun shines in his countenance; 
and all the rage of the fire burns in his feet. See his apparel : The 
clouds compose his robe, and the drapery of the sky floats upon his 
shoulders ; the rainbow forms his diadem ; and that which " com- 
passeth the heaven with a glorious circle," is the ornament of his 
head. Behold his attitude : One foot stands on the ocean, the other 
rests on the land: The wide-extended earth, and the world of waters, 
serve as pedestals for those mighty columns. Consider his action ; 
His hand is lifted up to the height of the stars. He speaks, and the 
regions of the firmament echo with the mighty accents, as the mid- 
night desert resounds with the lion's roar. The artillery of the skies 
is discharged at the signal ; a peal of sevenfold thunder spreads the 
alarm, and prepares the universe to receive his order. To finish all, 
and give the highest grandeur, as well as the utmost solemnity, 
to the representation, hear the decree that issues from his mouth : 
He swears by Him that liveth forever and ever. In whatever manner 
so majestic a person had expressed himself, he could not fail of 
commanding universal attention ; but when he confirms his speech 
by a most sacred and inviolable oath ; we are not only rapt in silent 
suspense, but overwhelmed with the profoundest awe. He swears, 
that time shall be no longer. Was ever voice so full of terror ; so big 
with wonder] It proclaims, not the fall of empires, but the final 
period of things ; it strikes off the wheels of nature ; bids ages and 
generations cease to roll ; and, with one potent word, consign i a 
whole world over to dissolution. This is one among a multitude of 
very sublime and masterly strokes, to be found in that too much 
neglected book — the Bible. 



ON THE NIGHT. 239 



Shall I now be industrious to shorten what is no 
longer than a span ; or to quicken the pace of what is 
ever on the wing? Shall I squander away what is 
unutterably important, while it lasts ; and, when once 
departed, is altogether irrevocable ? ! my soul, forbear 
the folly, forbear the desperate extravagance. Wilt 
thou chide, as a loiterer, the arrow that boundeth from 
the string ; or sweep away diamonds, as the refuse of 
thy house ? Throw time away ? Astonishing, ruinous, 
irreparable profuseness ! Throw empires away, and be 
blameless. But ! be parsimonious of thy days ; 
husband thy precious hours. They go connected, 
indissolubly connected, with heaven or hell.* Im- 
proved, they are the sure pledge of everlasting glory ; 
wasted, they are a sad preface to never-ending confusion 
and anguish. 

What a profound silence has composed the world ! So 
profound is the silence, that my very breath seems a 
noise ; the ticking of my watch is distinctly heard ; if I 
do but stir, it creates a disturbance. There is, now, 
none of that confused din from the tumultuous city ; no 
voice of jovial rustics from the neighboring meadow; 
no chirping melody from the shady thicket. Every lip 
is sealed ; not the least whisper invades the air, nor the 
least motion rustles among the boughs. Echo herself 
sleeps unmolested. The expanded ear, though all 
attention, catches no sound, but the liquid lapse of a 
distant murmuring stream. 



* I remember to have seen upon a sun dial in a physician's garden 
at Northampton, the following inscription ; which, I think, is the most 
'proper motto for the instrument that measures our time ; and the 
most striking admonition that can possibly be represented to everv 
eye: 

Ab hoc momento pendet Eternitas, 

The weighty sense of which, I know not how to express m 
English, more happily than in those words of Dr. Watts; 

Good God ! on what a slender thread 
[Or, on what a moment of time] 
Hang everlasting things ! 



240 CONTEMPLATIONS 

All things are hush'd, as nature's self lay dead. 

If, in the midst of this deep and universal composure, 
ten thousand bellowing thunders should burst over my 
head, and rend the skies with their united volleys ; how 
should I bear so unexpected a shock ? It would stun my 
senses, and confound my thoughts ; I should shudder in 
every limb ; perhaps, sink to the earth with terror. 
Consider, then, mortals! consider the much more 
prodigious and amazing call, which will, ere long, alarm 
your sleeping bones. When -the tenants of the tomb 
have slumbered, in the most undisturbed repose, for 
a multitude of ages; w T hat an inconceivable consterna- 
tion must the shout of the archangel, and the trump of 
God, occasion ! Will it not wound the ear of the un- 
godly ; and affright, even to distraction, the impenitent 
sinner? The stupendous peal will sound through the 
vast of heaven ; will shake the foundations of nature ; 
and pierce even the deepest recesses of the grave. 
\nd how — ! how will the prisoners of divine justice 
)e able to endure that tremendous summons to a far 
more tremendous tribunal ! Do thou, my soul, listen to 
the still voice of the Gospel ; attend, in this thy day, to 
the gracious invitations of thy Saviour. Then shall that 
great midnight cry lose its horror, and be music in thy 
ears : it shall be welcome to thy reviving clay, as the 
tidings of liberty to the dungeon captive! as the year 
of jubilee to the harrassed slave. This, this shall be 
its charming import ; Awake, and, sing, ye that dwell in 
dust* 

What a general cessation of affairs has this dusky hour 
introduced ! A little while ago, all was hurry, hurry. 
Life and activity exerted themselves in a thousand busy 
forms. The city swarmed with passing and repassing 
multitudes ; all the country was sweat and dust ; the air 
floated in perpetual agitation, by the flitting birds, and 
humming bees ; art sat prying with her piercing eyes ; 
while industry plied her restless hands. But see, how 
all this fervent and impetuous bustle is fled with the 
* Isa. xxvi. 19. 



ON THE NIGHT. 241 



setting sun. The beasts are slunk to their grassy couch, 
and the winged people are retired to their downy nests ; 
the hammer has resigned its sounding task, and the file 
ceases to repeat its flying touches : shut is the well-fre- 
quented shop, and its threshold no longer worn by the 
feet of numerous customers. The village swain lies 
drowned in slumbers ; and even his trusty dog, who for 
a considerable time stood sentry at the door, is extended 
at his ease, and snores with his master. In every place 
toil reclines her head, and application folds her arms. 
All interests seem to be forgot; all pursuits are sus- 
pended ; all employment is sunk away ; sunk away 
with those fluttering myriads, which lately sported in the 
sun's departing rays. 'Tis like the sabbath of universal 
nature ; or, as though the pulse of life stood still. 

Thus will it be with our infinitely momentous con- 
cerns, when once the shadows of the evening (that long 
evening, which follows the footsteps of death!) are 
stretched over us. The dead cannot seek unto God ; the 
living, the living alone, are possessed of this inestimable 
opportunity.* " There is no work or device, no re- 
pentance or amendment, in the grave, f whither we are 



* Behold ! now is the accepted time. Behold ! now is the day of 
salvation. — 2 Cor. vi. 2. 

Haste, haste, he lies in wait, he's at the door, — 
Insidious death ! Should his strong hand arrest, 
No composition sets the pris'ner free. 

j- They who are gone down to the grave, are represented (Isa. 
xxxviii. 11.,) by the phrase ^fcyv VlH— rendered by Vitringa, those 
that inhabit the land of intermission or cessation ,• which prevents ail 
appearance of tautology in the sentence ; and is, I think, a valuable 
improvement of the translation ; as it conveys an idea, not only dis- 
tinct from the preceding, but of a very poetical and very afflicting 
nature ; such as was perfectly natural for the royal singer and royal 
sufferer to dwell upon in his desponding moments. Thus inter- 
preted the sense will run: il I shall see man no more; I shall be cut 
off from the cheerful ways of men, and all the sweets of human 
society ; and, what is a farther aggravation of the threatened stroke, 
I shall, by its taking place, be numbered with those that inherit the 
land of cessation and inactivity; where there will be no more possi- 
bility of contributing to the happiness of my kingdom: no more 

21 



242 CONTEMPLATIONS 



all hasting." When once that closing scene is advanced, 
we shall have no other part to act on this earthly theatre. 
Then, the sluggard, who has slumbered away life in a 
criminal inactivity, must lie down in hopeless distress 
and everlasting sorrow. Then, that awful doom will 
take place, " He that is holy, let him be holy still ; and 
he that is filthy, let him be filthy for ever." 

Is it so, my soul ? Is this the only, only time allotted 
for obtaining the great reward, and making thy salva- 
tion sure ? And art thou lulled in a vain security, or 
dreaming in a supine inadvertency ? Start, ! start 
from thy trance ; gird up the loins of thy mind, and 
work while it is day ; improve the present seed-time, 
that eternity may yield a joyful harvest. We especially, 
who are watchmen in Israel, and ministers of the 
glorious Gospel ; may we be awakened by this con- 
sideration to all assiduity in our holy office. Some or 
other of our people are ever and anon departing into the 
invisible state ; all our friends are making incessant 
approaches to their long home ; and we ourselves shall 
very shortly be transmitted to the confinement of the 
tomb. This is the favorable juncture, wherein alone 
w^e can contribute to their endless welfare, this is the 
crisis, the all-important crisis, of their final felicity. 
Instantly therefore, let us pour in our wholesome instruc- 
tions ; instantlv, let us ply them w r ith our earnest exhorta- 
tions. A m^ ^ent's delay may be an irreparable loss ; 
may be irretrievable ruin. While we procrastinate, a 
fatal stroke may intervene, and place us beyond the 
power of administering ; or place them bevond all possi- 
bility of receiving any spiritual good.* 

opportunity of advancing my Creator's glory / of making my own 
final salvation sure." A sentiment like this is grand, important, and 
full of benevolence ; removes all suspicion of unbecoming pusilla- 
nimity, and does the highest honor to the monarch's character. 

* The case, represented by the prophet (1 Kings, xx. 40,) seems 
perfectly applicable on this occasion : As thy servant was busy here 
and there, he was gone. So while we are either remiss in our func- 
tions, or laying ourselves out upon inferior cares, the people of our 
charge may be gone : gone beyond the influence of our counsels ; 



ON THE NIGHT. 243 



How frequently is the face of nature changed ; and, by 
changing, made more agreeable ! The long-continued 
glitter of the day, renders the soothing shades of the 
evening doubly welcome ; nor does the morn ever 
purple the east with so engaging a lustre, as after the 
glocm of a dark and dismal night. At present, a calm 
of tranquillity is spread through the universe. The 
weary winds have forgot to blow ; the gentle gales have 
fanned themselves asleep ; not so much as a single leaf 
nods; even the quivering aspen rests ; and not one breath 
curls o'er the stream. Sometimes, on the contrary, the 
tempest summons all the forces of the air, and pours 
itself with resistless fury from the angry north. The 
whole atmosphere is tossed into tumultuous confusion, 
and the watery world is heaved to the clouds. The 
astonished mariner, and his straining vessel, now scale 
the rolling mountain, and hang dreadfully visible on the 
broken surge : now shoot, with headlong impetuosity, 
into the yawning gulph ; and neither hulk nor mast is 
seen. The storm sweeps over the continent, raves 
along the city streets, struggles through the forest 
boughs, and terrifies the savage nations with a howl 
more wildly horrid than their own. The knotty oaks 
bend before the blast, their iron trunks groan, and their 
stubborn limbs are dashed to the ground ; the lofty dome 
rocks, and even the solid tower totters on its basis. 

Such variations are kindly contrived, and with an 
evident condescension to the fickleness of our taste; 
because, a perpetual repetition of the same objects would 
create satiety and disgust; therefore, the indulgent 
Father of our race has diversified the universal scene, 
and bid every appearance bring with it the charm of 
novelty. This circumstance is beneficial as well as 
entertaining. Providence, ever gracious to mortals, ever 
intent upon promoting our felicity, has taken care to 
mingle in the constitution of things what is pleasing to 
our imagination, with what is serviceable to our interests. 

beyond the reach of our prayers: gone into the unchangeable and 
eternal state. 



244 CONTEMPLATIONS 

The piercing winds and rugged aspect of winter, render 
the balmy gales and flowery scenes of spring peculiarly 
delightful. ' At the same time the keen frosts mellow the 
soil and prepare it for the hand of industry ; the rushing 
rains impregnate the glebe, and fit it to become a maga- 
zine of plenty. The earth is a great laboratory ; and 
Decembers cold collects the gross materials, which are 
sublimated by the refining warmth of May. The air is a 
pure elastic fluid ; and were it always to remain in this 
motionless serenity, it would lose much of its active 
spring : was it never agitated by those wholesome con- 
cussions, it would contract a noisome, perhaps, a pesti- 
lential taint ; in which cases, our respiration, instead of 
purifying, would corrupt the vital juices ; instead of sup- 
plying us with refreshment, would be a source of dis- 
eases; or every gasp we draw might be unavoidable 
death.* How then should we admire, how should we 
adore, that happy union of benignity and wisdom, 
which, from a variety of dispensations, produces an uni- 
formity of good ; produces a perpetual succession of 
delights, and an uninterrupted series of advantages ! 

The dar/mess is now at its height, and I cannot but 
admire the obliging manner of its taking place. It comes 
not with a blunt and abrupt incivility, but makes gentle 
and respectful advances. A precipitate transition from 
the splendors of day to all the horrors of midnight, 

* Considering the immense quantity of coals, and other com- 
bustible materials which are daily consumed, and evaporate into 
the air ; considering the numberless steams, and clouds of smoke, 
which almost continually overwhelm populous cities ; the noisome 
exhalations which arise from thronged infirmaries and loathsome 
jails, from stagnating lakes and putrid fens; the variety of offensive 
and unwholesome effluvia which proceed from other causes ; it is a 
very remarkable instance of a Fiovidence, at once tenderly kind 
and infinitely powerful, that mankind is not suffocated with stench ; 
that the air is not choked with filth. The air is the common sewer, 
into which ten thousand times ten thousand nuisances are inces- 
santly discharged ; yet it is preserved so thoroughly clear as to afford 
the most transparent medium for vision ; so delicately undulatory, as 
to transmit, with all imaginable distinctness, every diversity of 
sound ; so perfectly pure, as to be the constant refiner of the fluids, 
in every animal that breathes. 



ON THE NIGHT. 245 



would be inconvenient and frightful ; it would bewilder 
the traveller in his journey, it would strike the creation 
with amazement, and, perhaps, be pernicious to the 
organs of sight. Therefore the gloom rushes not upon 
us instantaneously, but increases by slow degrees ; and 
sending twilight before as its harbinger , decently adver- 
tises us of its approach. By this means, we are neither 
alarmed nor incommoded by the change, but are able to 
take all suitable and timely measures for its reception. 
Thus graciously has Providence xegulated, not only the 
grand vicissitudes of the seasons, but also the common 
interchanges of light and darkness, with an apparent 
reference to our comfort. 

Now, the fierce inhabitants of the forest forsake their 
dens. A thousand grim forms, a thousand growling 
monsters, pace the desert. Death is in their jaws, 
while, stung with hunger, and athirst for blood, they 
roam their nightly rounds. Unfortunate the traveller, 
who is overtaken by the night, in those dismal wilds ! 
How must he stand aghast, at the mingled yell of 
ravenous throats, and lions roaring after their prey ! 
Defend him, propitious Heaven ! or else he must see his 
endearing spouse, and hail his native home no more ! 
Now, the prowling wolf, like a murderous ruffian, dogs 
the shepherd's footsteps, and besets his bleating charge. 
The fox, like a crafty felon, steals to the thatched cot- 
tage, and carries ofT the feathered booty. 

Happy for the world, were these the only destroyers 
that walk in darkness. But, alas ! there are savages in 
human shape ; who, muffled in shades, infest the abodes 
of civilized life. The sons of violence make choice of 
this season, to perpetrate the most outrageous acts of 
wrong and robbery.* The adulterer waiteth for the 
twilight ; and, baser than the villain on the highway, 
betrays the honor of his bosom-friend. Now, faction 



When Night 



Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons 
Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine. 

Milton. 



21* 



246 CONTEMPLATIONS 

forms her close cabals, and whispers her traitorous 
insinuations. Now, rebellion plants her accursed plots, 
and prepares the train to blow a nation into ruin. Now, 
crimes which hide their odious heads in the day, haunt 
the seats of society, and stalk through the gloom with 
audacious front. Now, the vermin of the stews crawl 
from their lurking holes, to wallow in sin, and spread 
contagion through the night ; each soothing himself, 
with the fond notion, that all is safe ; that no eye sees. 

Are they then concealed ? Preposterous madmen ! 
To draw the curtain between their infamous practices 
and a little set of mortals, but lay them open to all these 
chaste and wakeful eyes of heaven !* As though the 
moon and stars were made to light men to their revels, 
and not to God. Are they then concealed ? No, truly. 
Were every one of these vigilant luminaries closed, an 
eye keener than the lightning's flash, an eye brighter than 
ten thousand suns, beholds their every motion. Their 
thickest shades are beaming dayf to the jealous In- 
spector, and supreme Judge of human actions. Deluded 
creatures ! have ye not heard, have ye not read, " that 
clouds and darkness are His majestic residence ?"$ In 
that very gloom, to which you fly for covert, he erects 
his throne. What you reckon your screen is the bar of 
his tribunal. ! remember this ! Stand in awe, and 
sin not. Remember, that the great and terrible God is 
about your path,\\ when you take your midnight range; 

* Sed Luna videt, sed sidera testes 

Intendunt oculos. 

•\ This is finely and very forcibly expressed by the Psalmist: If 1 
say, peradventure the darkness shall cover me ; then shall my night be 
turned to day. Or, as it may be rendered somewhat more emphati- 
cally, even the night shall be broad daylight all around me, — Psalm, 
cxxxix. 10. 

+ Psal. xcvii. 2. 

|| The original words are much strongeF than the translation. — 
mi and nrUDH signify, " Thou siftest my path, and art intimately 
acquainted with all my ways." The former, I apprehend, denoting 
the exact cognisance which the Almighty taketh ; the latter implying 
the constant inspection which he exerciseth over all the circum- 
stances of our conduct. — Psal. cxxxix. 2. 



ON THE NIGHT. 247 



is about your bed, when you indulge the loose desire ; 
and spies out all your ways, be they ever so secretly con- 
ducted or artfully disguised. 

Some minutes ago, a passenger crossed along the road, 
His horse's foot struck the ground, and fetched fire from 
a flint. My eye, though at a distance, caught the view, 
and saw, with great clearness, the transient sparkles ; of 
which, had I been ever so near, I should not have dis- 
cerned the least glimpse under the blaze of * day. So,§ 
w r hen sickness has drawn a veil over the gaiety of our 
hearts ; when misfortunes have eclipsed the splendor of 
our outward circumstances ; how many important con- 
victions present themselves with the brightest evidence ! 
Under the sunshine of prosperity, they lay undiscovered ; 
but, when some intervening cloud has darkened the 
scene, they emerge from their obscurity, and even glitter 
upon our minds. Then, the world, that delusive cheat, 
confesses her emptiness ; but Jesus, the bright and 
morning star, beams forth with inimitable lustre. Then 
vice loses all her fallacious allurements ; that painted 
strumpet is horrible as the hags of hell : but virtue, des- 
pised virtue, gains loveliness from a lowering Provi- 
dence, and treads the shades with more than mortal 
charms. May this reconcile me, and all the sons of sor- 
row, to our appointed share of suffering ! If tribulation 
tend to dissipate the inward darkness, and pour heavenly 
day upon our minds ; welcome distress ; welcome dis- 
appointment ; welcome whatever our froward flesh or 
peevish passion would miscall calamities. These light 



§ I beg leave to inform the young gentleman, whose name dignifies 
my dedication, that this was a remark of his honored father, when 
we rode together, and conversed in a dusky evening. I mention 
this circumstance, partly to secure the paragraph from contempt, 
partly to give him and the world an idea of that eminently serious 
taste which distinguished my deceased friend. The less obvious :be 
reflection, the more clearly it discovers a turn of mind remarkably 
spiritual, which would suffer nothing to escape without yielding 
some religious improvement. The meaner the incident, the more 
admirable was the fertility of imagination, which could deduce the 
sublimest truths from the most trivial occurrences. 



248 CONTEMPLATIONS 

afflictions, which are but for a moment, shall sit easy upon . 
our spirits ; since they befriend our knowledge, promote 
our faith, and so work out for us a far more exceeding 
and eternal weight of glory.* 

How has this darkness snatched every splendid and 
graceful object from my sight ! It has dashed the sponge 
over the pictures of spring, and destroyed all the delicate 
distinctions of things. Where are now the fine tinges, 
which so lately charmed me from the glowing parterre ? 
The blush is struck out from the cheeks of the rose, and 
the snowy hue is dropped from the lily. I cast ray eyes 
toward a magnificent seat, but the aspiring columns and 
fair-expanded front are mingled in rude confusion. 
Without the sun, all the elegance of the blooming world 
is a mere blank, all the symmetry of architecture is a 
shapeless heap. 

Is not this an expressive emblem of the loveliness 
which the Sun of Righteousness transfuses into all that is 
amiable ? Were it not for Jesus and his merits, I should 
sigh with anguish of spirit, even while I rove through 
ranks of the most beautiful flowers, or breathe amidst a 
wilderness of sweets. Were it not for Jesus and his 
merits, I should roam like some disconsolate spectre, even 
through the smiles of creation and the caresses of fortune. 
My conversation in this world, though dressed in the 
most engaging forms of external pleasure, would be like 
the passage of a condemned malefactor through enamelled 

* 2 Cor. iv. 17. — The great Stephens, that oracle of Grecian learn- 
ing, translates tcad 1 vitsppoXnv, quo nihil majus did aut fingi potest. But 
how does the sense rise, how is the idea enlarged, under two such 
forcible expressions 1 K ad* vneppdXriv tig wrepPo\nv. The whole verse is 
a masterpiece of the beautiful antithesis, the lively description, and 
the nervous diction. It is one of those exquisite passages in the 
inspired writings, which, like some rich aromatic plants, cannot be 
transferred from their own generous and native soil without being 
impaired in their vivacity, and losing much of their delicacy. Per- 
haps the following version may be somewhat less injurious to the 
sacred original, than the common translation : " Our very light afflic- 
tion, which is but just for the present moment, worketh out a far 
more exceeding, and incomparably great and eternal weight of 
glory." 



ON THE NIGHT. 249 



meadows and bowers of bliss, to be broke upon the 
wheel, or to expire on the rack. But a daily reflection 
on the Lamb's atoning blood ; a comfortable trust that 
my soul is reconciled through this divine expiation ; this 
is the ray, the golden ray, which irradiates the face of 
the universe. This is the oil of beauty , which makes all 
things wear a cheerful aspect ; and the oil of gladness, 
which disposes the spectator to behold them with de- 
light.* This, this is the secret charm, which teacheth 
nature, in all her prospects and all her productions, so 
exquisitely to please. 

" Man goeth forth to his work, and to his labor, till 
the evening." But then his strength fails, his spirits 
flag, and he stands in need, not only of some respite 
from toil, but of some kindly and sovereign refresh- 
ments. What an admirable provision for this purpose 
is sleep I Sleep introduces a most welcome vacation 
both for the soul and body. The exercises of the brain, 
and the labors of the hand, are at once discontinued ; 
so that the weary limbs repair their exhausted vigor, 
while the pensive thoughts drop their load of sorrows, 
and the busy ones rest from the fatigues of application. 
Most reviving cordial ! equally beneficial to our animal 
and intellectual powers. It supplies the fleshly machine, 
and keeps all its nice movements in a proper posture for 
easy play. It animates the thinking faculties with fresh 

* Thus applied, that fine piece of flattery, addressed to the heathen 
emperor, is strictly and literally true, 

Vultus ubi tuus 

Affulsit populo, gratior it dies, 

Et soles melius nitent. — Horace. 
Whio 1 ^ I would cast into a Christian mould, and thus translate : 
When faith presents the Saviour's death, 

And whispers, "This is thine;" 
Sweetly my rising hours advance, 
And peacefully decline. 

While such my views, the radiant sun 

Sheds a more sprightly ray ; 
Each object smiles, all nature charms ; 

I sing my cares away. 



250 CONTEMPLATIONS 

alacrity, and rekindles their ardor for the studies of the 
dawn. Without these enlivening recruits, how soon 
would the most robust constitution be wasted into a 
walking skeleton, and the most learned sage degenerate 
into a hoary idiot ! Some time ago I beheld with sur- 
prise poor Florio. His air was wild, his countenance 
meagre, his thoughts roving,, and speech disconcerted. 
Inquiring the cause of this strange alteration, I was in- 
formed, that for several nights he had not closed his 
eyes in sleep ; for want of which noble restorative, that 
sprightly youth, (who was once the life of the discourse 
and the darling of the company,) is become a spectacle . 
of misery and horror. 

How many of my fellow-creatures are, at this very 
instant, confined to the bed of languishing, and com- 
plaining, with that illustrious sufferer of old, Wearisome 
nights are appointed to me* Instead of indulging soft 
repose, they are counting the tedious hours, telling every 
striking clock, or measuring the very moments by their 
throbbing pulse. How many, harassed with pain, most 
passionately long to make some little truce with their 
agonies in peaceful slumbers! How many, sick with 
disquietude, and restless even on their downy pillows, 
would purchase this transient oblivion of their woes, 
almost at any rate ! That which wealth cannot procure, 
which multitudes sigh for in vain, thy God has bestowed 
on thee, times out of number. The welcome visitant, 
punctual at the needed hour, has entered thy chamber, 
and poured his poppies round thy couch ; has gently 
closed thy eyelids, and shed his slumberous dews over 
all thy senses. 

Since sleep is so absolutely necessary, so inestimably 
valuable, observe what a fine apparatus Almighty good- 
ness has made, to accomodate us with the balmy bless- 
ing. With how kind a precaution he removes whatever 
might obstruct its access, or impede its influence ! He 
draws around us the curtain of darkness, which inclines 
us to a drowsy indolence, and conceals every object 
• Job, vii. 3. 



ON THE NIGHT. 251 



that might too strongly agitate the sense. He conveys 
peace into our apartments, and imposes silence on the 
whole creation. Every animal is bidden to tread softly, 
or rather to cease from its motion, when man is retiring 
to his repose. May we not discern, in this gracious 
disposition of things, the tender cares of a nursing mother, 
who hushes every noise, and secludes every disturbance, 
when she has laid the child of her love to rest ? So, by 
such soothing circumstances, and gently working opiates, 
he giveth to his beloved sleep.'* 

Another signal instance of a Providence intent upon 
our welfare, is, that we are preserved safe in the hours 
of slumber. How are we then lost to all apprehension 
of danger, even though the murderer be at our bed-side, 
or his naked sword at our breast ! Destitute of all con- 
cern for ourselves, we are unable to think of, much 
more to provide for our own security. At these mo- 
ments, therefore, we lie open to innumerable perils : 
perils, from the resistless rage of flames : perils, from 
the insidious artifices of thieves, or the outrageous 
violence of robbers : perils, from the irregular wor/dngs 
of our own thoughts,! and especially from the incur- 
sions of our spiritual enemy. 

* Psal. cxxvii. 2. 

•(• I think it is referable only to superintending and watchful Provi- 
dence, that we are not hurried into the most pernicious actions, when 
our imagination is heated, and our reason stupified by dreams. We 
have sometimes heard of unfortunate persons, who, walking in their 
sleep, have thrown themselves headlong from a window, and been 
dashed to death on the pebbles. And whence is it that such dis- 
astrous accidents are only related as pieces of news, not experienced 
by ourselves or our families 1 Were our minds more sober in their 
operations, or more circumspect in their regards'? No, verily; 
nothing could be more wild than their excursions, and none could 
be more inattentive to their own welfare. Therefore, if we have laid 
us down and slept in peace, it was because the Lord vouchsafed us 
the sweet refreshment ; if we rose again in safety* it was because the 
Lord sustained us with his unremitted protection. 

Will the candid reader excuse me, if I add a short story, or rather 
a matter of fact, suitable to the preceding remark 1 Two persons, 
who had been hunting together in the day, slept together the follow- 
ing night. One of them was renewing the pursuit in his dream ; 
and having run the whole circle of the chase, came at last to the fall 



252 CONTEMPLATIONS 



What dreadful mischief might that restless, that im- 
placable adversary of mankind work, were there not an 
invisible hand to control his rage, and protect poor 
mortals ! What scenes of horror might he represent to 
our imaginations, and " scare us with dreams, or terrify 
us with visions !"* But the Keeper of Israel, who never 
slumbers nor sleeps, interposes in our behalf, at once to 
cherish us under his wings, and to defend us as with a 
shield. It is said of Solomon, " that threescore valiant 
men were about his bed, all expert in war, every one 
with his sword upon his thigh, because of fear in the 
night, "f But one greater than Solomon, one mightier 
than myriads of armed hosts, even the great Jehovah, 
in whom is everlasting strength, he vouchsafes to encamp 
about our house, to watch over our sleeping minutes, and 
to stop all the avenues of ill. ! the unwearied and 
condescending goodness of our Creator, who lulls us to 
our rest, by bringing on the silent shades ; and plants his 
own ever- watchful eye as our sentinel, while we enjoy 
the needful repose. 

Reason now resigns her sedate office, and fancy, 
extravagant fancy, leads the mind through a maze of 
vanity. The head is crowded with false images, and 
tantalized with the most ridiculous misapprehensions of 
things. Some are expatiating amidst fairy fields, and 

of the stag. Upon this, he cries out with a determined ardor, Til 
kill him, Til kill him ; and immediately feels for the knife, which he 
carried in his pocket. His companion happening to awake, and 
observing what passed, leaped from the bed. Being secure from 
danger, and the moon shining into the room, he stood to view the 
event: when, to his inexpressible surprise, the infatuated sportsman 
gave several deadly stabs in the very place where, a moment before, 
the throat and the life of his friend lay. This I mention, as a proof 
that nothing hinders us, even from being assassins of others, or mur- 
derers of ourselves, amidst the mad sallies of sleep, only the prevent- 
ing care of our heavenly Father. 

* What a complete master that malignant spirit is, in exhibiting 
visionary representations, appears from his conduct towards Christ on 
the high mountain ; and that he is too ready, if not restrained by an 
overruling power, to employ his dexterity in afflicting mankind, is 
evident from his treatment of Job. — See Luke, iv. 5. — Job, vii. 14. 

| Cant. iii. 7, 8. 



ON THE NIGHT. 253 



gathering garlands of visionary bliss, while their bodies 
are stretched on a wisp of straw, and sheltered by the 
cobwebs of a barn. Others, quite insensible of their 
rooms of state, are mourning in a doleful dungeon, or 
struggling with the raging billows. Perhaps, with hasty 
steps, they climb the craggy cliff, and with real anxiety 
fly from the imaginary danger. Or else, benumbed 
with sudden fear, and finding themselves unable to 
escape, they give up at once their hopes and their 
efforts ; and though reclined on a couch of ivory, are 
sinking, all helpless and distressed, in the furious whirl- 
pool. So unaccountable are the vagaries of the brain, 
while sleep maintains its dominion over the limbs. 

But is this the only season, when absurd and inco- 
herent irregularities play their magic on our minds? 
Are there not those who dream, even in their waking 
moments? Some pride themselves in a iiotion of 
superior excellency, because the royal favor has an- 
nexed a few splendid titles to their names, or because 
the dying silk-worm has bequeathed her finest threads 
to cover their nakedness. Others congratulate their own 
signal happiness, because loads of golden lumber are 
amassed together in their coffers; or promise themselves 
a most superlative felicity indeed, when some thousands 
more are added to the useless heap. Nor are there 
wanting others, who gape after substantial satisfaction 
from airy applause, and flatter themselves with I know 
not what, immortality in the momentary buzz of renown. 
Are any of these a whit more reasonable in their 
opinions, than the poor ragged wretch in his reveries ; 
who, while snoring under a hedge, exults in the posses- 
sion of his stately palace and sumptuous furniture ? If 
persons, who are very vassals to their own domineering 
passions, and led captive by numberless temptations ; 
if these persons pique themselves with a conceit of their 
liberty, and fancy themselves the generous and gallant 
spirits of the age ; where is the difference between theirs 
and the madman's frenzy ; who, though chained to the 
floor, is throned in thought, and wielding an imaginary 

22 



254 CONTEMPLATIONS 

sceptre? In a word, as many as borrow their dignity 
from a plume of feathers, or the gaudy trappings of 
fortune ; as many as send their souls to seek for bliss in 
the blandishments of sense, or in any thing short of the 
divine favor, and a well grounded hope of the incor- 
ruptible inheritance ;* what are they, but dreamers with 
their eyes open; delirious, though in health*! 

Would you see their picture drawn to the very life, 
and the success of their schemes calculated with the 
utmost exactness, cast your eyes upon that fine represen- 
tation exhibited by the prophet : It shall be even as when 
a hungry man dreameth, and behold, he eateth ; but he 
awaketh, and his soul is empty : or, as when a thirsty man 
dreameth, and behold, he drinketh ; but he awaketh, and 
behold, he is faint, and his soul hath appetite. \ Such is 
the race, and such the prize of all those candidates for 
honor and joy, who run wide from the mark of the high 
calling of God in Christ Jesus. They live in vanity, 
and aie in woe. Awaken us, merciful Lord, from 
those noontide trances! Awaken us, while conviction 
may turn to our advantage, and not serve only to in- 
crease our torment. ! let our u eyes be enlightened, 
to discern the things that are excellent ;" and no longer 
be imposed upon by fantastic appearances, which, how- 
ever pompous they may seem, will prove more empty 
than the visions of night, more transient than the dream 
that is forgotten. 

Having mentioned sleep and dreams, let me once 
again consider those remarkable incidents of our frame : 
so very remakable, that I may venture to call them a 
kind of experimental mystery, and little less than a 
standing miracle. Behold the most vigorous constitution, 
when stretched on the bed of ease, and totally resigned 
to the slumbers of the night : its activity is oppressed 
with fetters of indolence ; its strength is consigned over 

* These give a sacred and home-felt delight, 
A sober certainty of waking bliss. 

Milton's Comus. 
f Isa. xxix. 8. 



ON THE NIGHT. 255 



to a temporary annihilation ; the nerves are like a bow 
unstrung, and the whole animal system is like a motion- 
less log. Behold a person of the most delicate sensations 
and amiable dispositions : his eyes though thrown wide 
open, admit not the visual ray ; at least, distinguish not 
objects: his ears, with the organs unimpaired, and articu- 
late accents beating upon the drum, perceive not the 
sound ; at least, apprehend not the meaning : the senses, 
and their exquisitely fine feelings, are overwhelmed 
with an unaccountable stupefaction. You call him a 
social creature ; but where are his social affections ? 
He knows not the father that begat him ; and takes no 
notice of the friend that is as his own soul. The wife 
of his bosom may expire by his side, and he lie no more 
concerned than a barbarian. The children of his body 
may be tortured w T ith the severest pangs, and he even 
in the same chamber, remain untouched with the least 
commiseration. Behold the most ingenious scholar, 
whose judgment is piercing, and able to trace the most 
intricate difficulties of science ; his taste refined, and 
quick to relish all the beauties of sentiment and compo- 
sition : yet at this juncture the thinking faculties are 
unhinged, and the intellectual economy quite discon- 
certed. Instead of close-connected reasonings, nothing 
bat a disjointed huddle of absurd ideas; instead of well- 
digested principles, nothing but a disorderly jumble of 
crude conceptions. The most palpable delusions impose 
upon his imagination. The whole night passes, and he 
frequently mistakes it for a single minute ; is not sensible 
of the transition, hardly sensible of any duration. 

Yet no sooner does the morning dawn, and daylight 
enter the room, but this strange enchantment vanishes. 
The man awakes, and finds himself possessed of all the 
valuable endowments, which for several hours were 
suspended or lost. His sinews are braced, and fit for 
action : his senses are alert and keen. The romantic 
visionary brightens into the master of reason. The 
frozen or benumbed affections melt with tenderness, and 
glow with benevolence : and, what is beyond measure 



256 CONTEMPLATIONS 

surprising, the intoxicated mind works itself sober, not 
by slow degrees, but in the twinkling of an eye recovers 
from its perturbation. Why does not the stupor which 
deadens all the nice operations of the animal powers, 
hold fast its possession ? When the thoughts are once 
disadjusted, why are they not always in confusion ? 
How is it, that they are rallied in a moment ; and, from 
the wildest irregularity, reduced to the most orderly 
array? From an inactivity resembling death, how is 
the body so suddenly restored to vigor and agility ? — 
From extravagances bordering upon madness, how is the 
understanding instantaneously re-established in sedate- 
ness and harmony? Surely " this is the Lord's doing, 
and it should be marvellous in our eyes ;" should 
awaken our gratitude, and inspirit our praise. 

This is the time in which ghosts are supposed to make 
their appearance. Now the timorous imagination teems 
with phantoms, and creates numberless terrors to itself. 
Now dreary forms, in sullen state, stalk along the gloom ; 
or, swifter than lightning, glide across the shades. Now 
voices more than mortal* are heard from the echoing 
vaults, and groans issue from the hollow tombs. Now 
melancholy spectres visit the ruins of ancient monas- 
teries, and frequent the solitary dwellings of the dead. 
They pass and repass, in unsubstantial images, along the 
forsaken galleries ; or take their determined stand over 
some lamented grave. How often has the school boy 
fetched a long circuit, and trudged many a needless 
step, in order to avoid the haunted churchyard ? — 
Or, if necessity, sad necessity, has obliged him to cross 
the spot where human skulls are lodged below, and the 
^baleful yews shed supernumerary horrors above, a thou- 
sand hideous stories rush into his memory. Fear adds 
wings to his feet; he scarce touches the ground, dares 
not once look behind him, and blesses his good fortune, 



Vox quoque per locos vulgo exauditc silentes 
Ingens, et simulacra modis pallentia miris 
Visa sub obscurum noctis. — Virgil. 



ON THE NIGHT. 257 



if no frightful sound purred at his heels, if no ghastly 
shape bolted upon his sight. 

'Tis strange to observe the excessive timidity which 
possesses many people's minds on this fanciful occasion ; 
while they are void of all concern on others of the most 
tremendous import. Those who are startled, in any 
dark and lonely walk, at the very apprehension of a single 
spectre, are nevertheless unimpressed at the sure prospect 
of entering into a whole world of disembodied beings ; 
nay, are without any emotions of awe, though they know 
themselves to be hastening into the presence of the Great, 
Infinite, and Eternal Spirit. Should some pale messen- 
ger from the regions of the dead draw back our curtains 
at the hour of midnight, and, appointing some particular 
place, say, as the horrid apparition to Bmtus, u Til meet 
thee there :"* I believe the boldest heart would feel 
something like a panic, would seriously think upon the 
adventure, and be in pain for the event. But when a 
voice from heaven cries, in the aw r akening language of 
the prophet, " Prepare to meet thy God, Israel !"f how 
little is the warning regarded ! How soon is it forgot ! 
Preposterous stupidity ! to be utterly unconcerned, where 
it is the truest wisdom to take the alarm ; and to be all 
trepidation, where there is nothing really terrible ! Do 
thou, my soul, remember thy Saviour's admonition : " I 
mil forewarn you, whom you shall fear. Fear not these 
imaginary horrors of the night ; but fear that *wful 
Being, whose revelation of himself, though with expres- 
sions of peculiar mercy, made Moses, his favorite ser- 
vant, tremble exceedingly ; whose manifestation, when 
he appears with purposes of inexorable vengeance, will 
make mighty conquerors, who were familiar with dangers, 
and estranged to dismay, call upon the mountains to fall 
on them, and the rocks to cover them ; the menace of 

* The story of Brutus, and his evil genius, is well known. Nor 
must, it be denied, that the precise words of the spectre to the hero 
were, " Til meet thee at Philippi." But, as this would not answer 
my purpose, I was obliged to make an alteration in the circum- 
stance of place. 

j- Amos, iv. 12. 

22* 



258 CONTEMPLATIONS 

whose majestic eye, when he comes attended with 
thousand thousands of his immortal hosts, will make the 
very heavens cleave asunder, and the earth flee away. 
O! dread his displeasure; secure his favor; and then 
thou mayest commit all thy other anxieties to the wind. 
Thou mayest laugh at every other fear." 

This brings to my mind a memorable and amazing 
occurrence, recorded in the Book of Job ;* which is I 
think, no inconsiderable proof of the real existence of 
apparitions,! on some very extraordinary emergencies ; 
while it discountenances those legions of idle tales, 
which superstition has raised and credulity received ; 
since it teaches us, that if, at any time, those visitants 
from the unknown world render themselves perceivable 
by mortals, it is not upon any errand of frivolous con- 
sequence ; but to convey intelligencies of the utmost 
moment, or to work impressions of the highest advan- 
tage. 

'Twas in the dead of night. All nature lay shrouded 
in darkness. Every creature was buried in sleep. The 



* Job. iv. 12, 14, &c. 

f Is a proof of the real existence of apparitions. — If the sense in 
which I have always understood this passage be true. Eliphaz, I 
apprehend, was neither in a trance nor in a dream, but perfectly 
awake. Though he speaks of sleep, he speaks of it as fallen not 
upon himself but upon other men. He does not meution dreams, 
though noiSn somnia, would have suited the verse (if the book be 
in metre) altogether as well as m3V?n visiones. It could not, surely, 
be a wind, as some translate the word HH ; because the circum- 
stance of standing still is not so compatible with the nature of a 
wind; and a wind would have passed above him, all around him as 
well as before him. Not to add, how low a remark it is, and how 
unworthy of a place in so august a description, that he could not 
discern the fn*m of a wind. It seems, therefore, to have been a real 
spirit; either angelical, as were those which presented themselves 
to Abraham resting at the door of his tent, and to Lot sitting in the 
gate of Sodom ; or else the spirit of some departed saint, as in the 
case of Samuel's apparition, or the famous appearance of Moses and 
Elijah on the mount of transfiguration; a spirit assuming some 
vehicle in order to become visible to the human eye : which, accord- 
ingly, Eliphaz saw exhibiting itself as an object of sight; but saw 
so obscurely and indistinctly, that he was not able either to describe 
its asp id, o r to discern whom it resembled. 



ON THE NIGHT. 259 



most profound silence reigned through the universe. In 
these solemn moments, Eliphaz alone, all wakeful and 
solitary, was musing upon sublime and heavenly sub- 
jects. When lol.an awful being, from the invisible 
realms, burst into his apartment.* A spirit passed before 
his face. Astonishment seized the beholder. His bones 
shivered within him, his flesh trembled all over him ; 
and the hair of his head stood erect with horror. Sudden 
and unexpected was the appearance of the phantom ; 
not such its departure. It stood still, to present itself 
more fully to his view. It made a solemn pause, to 
prepare his mind for some momentous message. After 
which, a voice was heard : a voice, for the importance 
of its meaning, worthy to be had in everlasting remem- 
brance ; for the solemnity of its delivery, enough to 
alarm a heart of stone. It spoke ; and this was the 
purport of its words : " Shall man, frail man, be just 
before the mighty God? Shall even the most accomplished 
of mortals be pure in the sight of his Maker ?f Behold, 
and consider it attentively. He put no such trust in his 

* I have given this solemn picture a modern dress, rather for the 
sake of variety and illustration, than from any apprehension of im- 
proving the admirable original. Such an attempt, I am sensible, 
would be more absurdly vain, than to lacquer gold, or paint the 
diamond. The description, in Eliphaz 's own language, is awful and 
affecting to the last degree : a night-piece, dressed in all the circum- 
stances of the deepest horror. I question, whether Shakspeare him- 
self, though so peculiarly happy for his great command of terrifying 
images, has any thing superior or comparable to this. The judges 
of fine composition see the masterly strokes ; and, I believe, the 
most ordinary reader feels them chilling his blood, and awakening 
emotions of dread in his mind. 

•f- There seems to be a significant and beautiful gradation in the 
Hebrew words #?JX and !D<3> which I have endeavored to preserve 
by a sort of paraphrastic version. The reader will observe a new turn 
given to the sentiment ; preferable, I think, to that which our English 
translation exhibits: not, Shall man be more just than God? but, 
Shall man be just before, or in the sight of God? The passage, thus 
rendered, speaks a truth incomparably more weighty, and needful to 
be inculcated; a truth, exactly parallel to that humbling confession 
of the prophet, We are all as an unclean thing ,• and to that solemn 
declaration of the Psalmist, In thy sight shall no man living be 
justified 



260 CONTEMPLATIONS 

most exalted servants, as should bespeak them incapable 
of defect ; and his very angels he charged with folly : as 
sinking, even in the highest perfection of their holiness, 
infinitely beneath his transcendent glories ; as falling, 
even in all the fidelity of their obedience, inexpressibly 
short of the homage due to his adorable majesty. If 
angelic natures must not presume to justify, either them- 
selves, or their services, before uncreated purity ; how 
much more absurd is such a notion, how much more 
impious such an attempt, in them that dwell in houses of 
clay ; whose original is from the dust, and whose state 
is all imperfection !" 

I would observe from hence, the very singular neces- 
sity of that poverty of spirit, which entirely renounces its 
own attainments; and most thankfully submits to the 
righteousness of the incarnate God. To inculcate this 
lesson, the Son of the Blessed came down from heaven ; 
and pressed no other principal with so repeated* an 
importunity on his hearers. To instil the same doc- 
trine, the Holy Ghost touched the lips of the apostles 
with sacred eloquence ; and made it an eminent part of 
their commission, u to demolish every high imagina- 
tion." That no expedient might be wanting to give it 
a deep and lasting efficacy on the human mind, a phan- 
tom arises from the valley of the shadow of death, or a 
teacher descends from the habitation of spirits. Whatr 
ever then we neglect, let us not neglect to cultivate this 
grace, which has been so variously taught, so power- 
fully enforced. 

Hark ! a doleful voice — with sudden starts, and hideous 
screams, it disturbs the silence of the peaceful night. 
'Tis the screech-owl, sometimes in frantic, sometimes in 



* It is well worthy of our observation, says an excellent commen- 
tator, " that no one sentence uttered by our Lord, is so frequently 
repeated as this : Whosoever shall exalt himself, shall he abased ,- and 
he that shall hwnble himself, shall he exalted ,•" which often occurs in 
the Evangelists; but is never duly accomplished in us, till we dis- 
claim all pretension to merit and righteousness of our own, and seek 
them only in the atonement and obedience of Jesus Christ. 



ON THE NIGHT. 261 

disconsolate accents, uttering her woes.* She flies the 
vocal grove, and shuns the society of all the feathered 
choir. The blooming gardens and flowery meads have 
no charms for her. Obscene shades, ragged ruins, and 
walls overgrown with ivy, are her favorite haunts. 
Above, the mouldering precipice nods, and threatens a 
fall ; below, the toad crawls, or the poisonous adder 
hisses. The sprightly morning, which awakens other 
animals into joy, administers no pleasure to this gloomy 
recluse. Even the smiling face of day is her aver- 
sion ; and all its lovely scenes create nothing but un- 
easiness. 

So, just so, would it fare with the ungodly ', were it 
possible to suppose their admission into the chaste and 
bright abodes of endless felicity. They would find 
nothing but disappointment and shame, even at the 
fountain-head of happiness and honor. For how could 
the tongue habituated to profaneness, taste any delight 
in the harmonious adorations of heaven ? How could 
the lips cankered with slander, relish the raptures of 
everlasting praise ? Where would be the satisfaction of 
the vain beauty, or the supercilious grandee ; since, in 
the temple of the skies, no incense of flattery would be 
addressed to the former, nor any obsequious homage 
paid to the latter? The spotless and inconceivable 
purity of the blessed God would flash confusion on the 
lascivious eye. The envious mind must be on a rack of 
self- tormenting passions, to observe millions of happy 
beings, shining in all the perfections of glory, and 
solacing themselves in the fulness of joy. In short, 
the unsanctified soul, amidst holy and triumphant spirits, 
even in the refined regions of bliss and immortality, 
would be, like this melancholy bird, dislodged from her 

* Solaque culminibus ferali carmine bubo 
Saepe queri, longasque in fletum ducere voces. 
Thus sung that charming genius, that prince of the ancient poets, 
that most consummate master of elegance and accuracy ; all whose 
sentiments are nature, whose every description is a picture, whose 
whole language is music — Virgil. 



262 CONTEMPLATIONS 

darksome retirement, and imprisoned under the beams 
of day.* 

The voice of this creature screaming at our windows, 
or of the raven croaking over our houses, is, they say, a 
token of approaching death. There are persons, who 
would regard such an incident with no small degree of 
solicitude. Trivial as it is, it would damp their spirits, 
perhaps break their rest. One cannot but wonder, that 
people should suffer themselves to be affrighted at such 
fantastical, and yet be quite unaffected with real, presages 
of their dissolution. Real presages of this awful event 
address us from every quarter. What are these incum- 
bent glooms which overwhelm the world, but a kind of 
pall provided for nature ; and an image of that long 
night, which will quickly cover the inhabitants of the 
whole earth ? What an affinity has the sleep, f which 
will very soon weigh down my drowsy eyelids, with that 
state of entire cessation, in which all my senses must be 
laid aside ! The silent chamber, and the bed of slumber, 
are a very significant representation of the land, where 
all things are hushed, all things are forgotten. What 
meant that deep death-bell note, which, the other evening, 
saddened the air? Laden with heaviest accents, it 
struck our ears, and seemed to knock at the door of our 
hearts. Surely, it brought a message to surviving 
mortals, and thus the tidings ran : " Mortals, the des- 

* I would beg of the reader to observe, with what emphasis and 
propriety our Lord touches this important point, in his memorable 
reply to Nicodemus : Verily, verily, 1 say unto thee, Except a man be 
born again, he cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven; q. d.," I waive 
the authority of the supreme Judge, and speak with the condescension 
of a teacher in Israel. Though I might, without being liable to the 
least control, pass it into a sovereign decree, that unrenewed mortals, 
who are slaves to corrupt appetite, shall not enter the habitations of 
the just ; I rather choose to represent it as a case utterly impossible : 
and charge the calamity, not upon divine severity, but upon human 
folly. Such persons, from the very nature of things, preclude them- 
selves; they incapacitate their own minds; and contrarieties must 
be reconciled, before they, in their unregenerate condition, can be 
partakers of those spiritual and sublime delights." — John, iii. 3. 
f Et consanguineus lethi sopor. — Vibgil. 



ON THE NIGHT. 263 



troyer of your race is on his way. The last enemy has 
begun the pursuit, and is gaining ground upon you 
every moment. His paths are strewed with heaps of 
slain. Even now, his javelin has laid one of your 
neighbors in the dust ; and will soon, very soon, aim 
the inevitable blow at each of your lives. 55 

We need not go down to the charnel-house, nor carry 
our search into the repositories of the dead, in order to 
find memorials of our impending doom. A multitude 
of these remembrancers are planted in all our paths, 
and point the heedless passengers to their long home. I 
can hardly enter a considerable town, but I meet the 
funeral procession, or the mourners going about the 
streets. The hatchment suspended on the wall, or the 
crape streaming in the air, are silent intimations, that 
both rich and poor have been emptying their houses and 
replenishing their sepulchres. I can scarce join in any 
conversation, but mention is made of some that are 
given over by the physician, and hovering on the con- 
fines of eternity ; of others, that have just dropped their 
clay amidst weeping friends, and are gone to appear 
before the judge of all the earth. There 5 s not a news- 
paper comes to my hand ; but, amidst all its entertaining 
narrations, reads several serious lectures of mortality. 
What else are the repeated accounts of age, w r orn out 
by slow-consuming sickness ; of youth, dashed to pieces 
by some sudden stroke of casualty ; of patriots, exchang- 
ing their seats in the senate for a lodging in the tomb ; 
of misers, resigning their breath, and (0 relentless 
destiny !) leaving their very riches for others ? Even 
the vehicles of our amusement are registers of the 
deceased ; and the voice of fame seldom sounds, but in 
concert with a knell. 

The monitors crowd every place ; not so much as the 
scenes of our diversion excepted. What are the deco- 
rations of our public buildings, and the most elegant; 
furniture of our parlors, but the imagery of death, and 
trophies of the tomb ? That marble bust ; and those 
gilded pictures ; how solemnly they recognize the fate of 



264 CONTEMPLATIONS 



others, and speakingly remind us of our own! I see, I 
hear, and 0! I feel, this great truth. It is interwoven 
with my constitution. The frequent decays of the struc- 
ture foretell its final ruin. What are all the pains that 
have been darted through my limbs ; what every disease 
that has assaulted my health ; but the advanced guards 
of the foe ? What are the languors and weariness that 
attend the labors of each revolving day ; but the more 
secret practices of the adversary, slowly undermining the 
earthly tabernacle ? 

Amidst so many notices, shall we go on thoughtless 
and unconcerned ? Can none of these prognostics, 
which are sure oracles, awaken our attention, and engage 
our circumspection? Noah, 'tis written, being warned 
of God, prepared an Ark. Imitate, my soul, imitate this 
excellent example. Admonished by such a cloud of 
witnesses, be continually putting thyself in readiness for 
the last change. Let not that day, of which thou hast 
so many infallible signs, come upon thee unawares. 
Get the ivy entwined, and thy affections disentangled 
from this enchanting world : that thou mayest be able 
to quit it without reluctance. Get the dreadful hand- 
writing cancelled, and all thy sins blotted out ; that thou 
mayest depart in peace, and have nothing to fear at the 
decisive tribunal. Get ! get thyself interested in the 
Redeemer's merits, and transformed into his sacred 
image : then shalt thou be meet for the inheritance of 
saints in light, and mayest even desire to be dissolved, 
and to be with Christ. 

Sometimes, in my evening walk, I have heard 

The wakeful bird 

Sing darkling, and, in shadiest covert hid, 
Tune her nocturnal note.* 

How different the airs of this charming songster from 
those harsh and boding outcries ! The little creature ran 
through all the variations of music, and showed herself 
mistress of every grace which constitutes or embellishes 
harmony. Sometimes she swells a manly throat, and her 
* Milton's Paradise Lost. 



ON THE NIGHT. 205 



song kindles into ardor. The tone is so bold, and strikes 
with such energy, you would imagine the sprightly 
serenader in the very next thicket. Anon, the strain 
languishes, and the mournful warbler melts into tender- 
ness. The melancholy notes just steal upon the shades, 
and faintly touch your ear ; or, in soft and sadly-pleas- 
ing accents, they seem to die along the distant vale. 
Silence is pleased, and night listens to the thrilling tale. 

What an invitation is this, to slip away from the 
thronged city ! This coy and modest minstrel entertains 
only the lovers of retirement : those who are carousing 
over their bowls, or ranting at the riotous club, lose this 
feast of harmony. In like manner, the pleasures of reli- 
gion, and the joy of reconciliation with God ; the satis- 
factions arising from an established interest in Christ, 
and from the prospect of a blissful immortality ; these 
are all lost to the mind that is ever in the crowd, and 
dares not, or delights not, to retire into itself. Are we 
charmed with the nightingale's song? Do we wish to 
have it nearer, and hear it oftener? Let us seek a 
renewed heart, and a resigned will ; a conscience that 
whispers peace, and passions that are tuned by grace. 
Then shall we never want a melody in our own breasts, 
far more musically pleasing than sweet PhilomeWs 
sweetest strains. 

As different as the voices of these birds, are the cir- 
cumstances of those few persons who continue awake. 
Some are squandering, pearls shall I say, or kingdoms ? 
No ; but what is unspeakably more precious, time ; 
squandering this inestimable talent with the most sense- 
less and wanton prodigality. Not content with allowing 
a few spare minutes for the purpose of necessary recre- 
ation, they lavish many hours, devote whole nights., to 
that idle diversion of snuffling, ranging, and detaching a 
set of painted pasteboards. Others, instead of this busy 
trifling, act the part of their own tormentors ; they even 
piquet themselves,* and call it amusement ; they are 

* Alluding to a very painful punishment inflicted on delinquents 
among the soldiery. 

23 



266 CONTEMPLATIONS 

torn by wild horses, yet term it a sport. What else is 
the gamester"* s practice ? His mind is stretched on the 
tenter-hooks of anxious suspense, and agitated by the 
fiercest extremes of hope and fear ; while the dice are 
rattling, his heart is throbbing ; his fortune is tottering ; 
and, possibly at the very next throw, the one sinks in 
the gulf of ruin, the other is hurried into the rage of 
distraction. 

Some, snatched from the bloom of health and the lap 
of plenty, are confined to the chamber of sickness ; where 
they are constrained, either to plunge into the everlast- 
ing world in an unprepared condition, or else (sad 
alternative !) to think over all the follies of a heedless 
life, and all the bitterness of approaching death. The 
disease rages ; it baffles the force of medicine, and urges 
the reluctant wretch to the brink of the precipice ; while 
furies rouse the conscience, and point at the bottomless 
pit below. Perhaps his drooping mother, deprived long 
ago of the husband of her bosom, and bereft of all 
her other offspring, is, even now, receiving the blow 
which consummates her calamities.* In vain she tries 
to assuage the sorrows of a beloved son ; in vain she 
attempts, with her tender offices, to prolong a life dearer 
than her own. He faints in her arms, he bows his 

* This brings to my mind one of the deepest mourning pieces 
extant in the productions of the pen. The sacred historian paints 
if in all the simplicity of style, yet with all the strength of coloring : 
When Jesus came nigh to the gate of the city, behold ! there was a dead 
man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. 
What a gradation is here ! how pathetically beautiful ! Every fresh 
circumstance widens the wound, aggravates the calamity, till the 
description is worked up into the most finished picture of exquisite 
and inconsolable distress. He was a young man, cut off in the flower 
of life, amidst a thousand gay expectations and smiling hopes : a 
son, an only son ; the afllicted mother's all ; so that none remained 
to preserve the name, or perpetuate the family. What rendered the 
case still more deplorable, she was a widow, left entirely desolate, 
abandoned to her woes, without any to share her sorrows, or to 
comfort her under the irreparable loss. Is not this a fine sketch of 
the impassioned and picturesque ? Who can consider the narrative 
with any attention, and not feel his heart penetrated with a tender 
commiseration \ — Luke, vii. 12. 



ON THE NIGHT. 267 



head, he sinks in death. Fatal, doubly fatal that last 
expiring pang ! While it dislodges the unwilling soul, 
it rends an only child from the yearning embraces of a 
parent; and tears away the support of her age from a 
disconsolate widow. 

While those long for a reprieve, others invite the stroke. 
Quite weary of the world, with a restless impatience 
they sigh for dissolution : some, pining away under the 
tedious decays of an incurable consumption ; or gasping 
for breath, and almost suffocated by an inundation of 
dropsical waters. On some, a relentless cancer has 
fastened its envenomed teeth, and is gnaw T ing them, 
though in the midst of bodily vigor, in the midst of 
pitying friends, gradually to death. Others are on a 
rack of agonies by convulsive fits of the stone. ! how 
the pain writhes their limbs : how the sweat bedews their 
flesh ; and their eye-balls w T ildly roll ! Methinks, the 
night condoles with these her distressed children, and 
sheds dewy tears over their sorrowful abodes. Buc, of 
all mortals, they are the most exquisitely miserable who 
groan beneath the pressure of a melancholy mind, or 
smart under the lashes of a. resentful conscience. Though 
robed in ermine, or covered with jew r els, the state of a 
slave chained to the galleys, or of an exile condemned 
to the mines, is a perfect paradise compared with theirs. 

! that the votaries of mirth, whose life is a continued 
round of merriment and whim, would bestow one serious 
reflection on this variety of human woes ! It might teach 
them to be less enamored with the few languid sweets 
that are thinly scattered through this vale of tears, and 
environed with such a multitude of ragged thorns ; it 
might teach them no longer to dance away their years 
with a giddy rambling impulse; but to aspire, with a 
determined aim, after those happy regions, where de- 
lights, abundant and unimbittered, flow. 

Can there be circumstances which a man of wisdom 
would more earnestly deprecate, than these several in- 
stances of grievous tribulation ? There are ; and, what 
is very astonishing, they are frequently the desire and 



268 CONTEMPLATIONS 



the choice of those who fancy themselves the sole heirs 
of happiness ; those, I mean, who are launching out 
into the depths of extravagance, and running excessive 
lengths of riot; who are prostituting their reputation, 
and sacrificing their peace, to the gratification of their 
lusts ; sapping the foundation of their health in debauch- 
eries ; or shipwrecking the interests of their families in 
their bowls ; and, what is worse, are forfeiting the joys 
of an eternal heaven for the sordid satisfactions of the 
beast, for the transitory sensations of an hour. Ye slaves 
of appetite, how far am I from envying your gross sensu- 
alities and voluptuous revels ! Little, ah ! little are you 
sensible, that while indulgence showers her roses, and 
luxury diffuses her odors they scatter poisons also, and 
shed unheeded bane* evils, incomparably more malig- 
nant than the wormwood and gall of the sharpest afflic- 
tion. Since death is in the drunkard's cup, and worse 
than poniards in the harlot's embrace ; may it ever be 
the privilege of the man whom I love, to go without his 
share of these pestilent sweets. \ 

Abundance of living sparks glitter in the lanes, and 
twinkle under the hedges. I suppose they are the glow- 
worms, which have lighted their little lamps, and ob- 
tained leave, through the absence of the sun, to play a 
feeble beam. A faint glimmer just serves to render 
them perceivable, without tending at all to dissipate the 
shades, or making any amends for the departed day. 
Should some weather-beaten traveller, dropping with 
wet, and shivering with cold, hover round this mimicry 
of fire, in order to dry his garments, and warm his 
benumbed limbs ; should some bewildered traveller, 
groping for his way, in a starless night, and trackless 

* Yes, in the flowers that wreath the sparkling bowl, 
Fell adders hiss, and poisonous serpents roil, 
j* Quam suave est suavitatibus isiis carere / was St. Augustus pious 
exclamation ; the substance of which Mr. Pope has expressed with 
more simplicity, and with no less dignity : 

Count all the advantage prosperous vice attains, 
Tis but what virtue flies from, and disdains. 



ON THE NIGHT. 269 



desert^ take one of these languid tapers, as a light to his 
feet, and a lantern to his paths ; how certainly would 
both the one and the other be frustrated of their expec- 
tation ! And are they more likely to succeed, who, 
neglecting that sovereign balm which distilled from the 
cross, apply any carnal diversion to heal the anxiety of 
the mind ? who, deaf to the infallible decisions of reve- 
lation, resign themselves over to the erroneous conjectures 
of reason, in order to find the way that leadeth unto life ? 
or lastly, who have recourse to the froth of this vain 
world, for a satisfactory portion, and a substantial hap- 
piness ? Their conduct is in no degree wiser, their 
disappointment equally sure, and their miscarriage in- 
finitely more disastrous. To speak in the delicate lan- 
guage of a sacred writer, " they sow the wind, and will 
reap the whirlwind. 5 '* 

To speak more plainly ; the pleasures of the world, 
which we are all so prone to dote upon ; and the powers 
of fallen reason, which some are so apt to idolize,! are 
not only vain, but treacherous ; not only a painted flame, 
like these sparkling animals, but much like those unctu- 

* Hos. viii. 7. 

f I hope it will be observed, that I am far from decrying that 
noble faculty of reason, when exerted in her proper sphere, when 
acting in a deferential subordination to the revealed will of Heaven. 
While she exercises her powers within these appointed limits, she 
is unspeakably serviceable, and cannot be too industriously culti- 
vated. But, when she sets up herself in proud contradistinction to 
the sacred oracles; when, all-arrogant and self-sufficient, she says 
to the word of Scripture, J have no need of thee ; she is then, I must 
be bold to maintain, not only a glow-worm, but an ignis fatuus; not 
only a bubble, but a snare. 

May not this remark, with the strictest propriety, and without the 
least limitation, be applied to the generality of our modern ro- 
mances, novels, and theatrical entertainments'? These are com- 
monly calculated to inflame a wanton fancy ; or, if conducted with 
so much modesty as not to debauch the affections, they pervert the 
judgment, and bewilder the taste. By their incredible adventures, 
their extravagant parade of gallantry, and their characters widely 
different from truth and nature, they inspire foolish conceits, beget 
idle expectations, introduce a disgust of genuine history, and indis- 
pose their admirers to acquiesce in the decent civilities, or to relish 
thj sober satisfactions of common life. 

2V 



270 CONTEMPLATIONS 

ous exhalations, which arise from the marshy ground, 
and often dance before the eyes of the benighted way- 
faring man. Kindled into a sort of fire, they personate 
a guide, and seem to offer their service ; but, blazing 
with delusive light, mislead their followers into hidden 
pits, headlong precipices, and unfathomable gulfs; where, 
far from his beloved friends, far from all hopes of succor, 
the unhappy wanderer is swallowed up and lost. 

Not long ago, we observed a very surprising appear- 
ance in the western sky ; a prodigious star took its 
flaming route through those coasts, and trailed as it 
passed, a tremendous length of fire, almost over half 
the heavens. Some, I imagine, viewed the portentous 
stranger with much the same anxious amazement as 
Belshazzar beheld the hand-writing upon the wall. 
Some looked upon it as a bloody flag* hung out by 
divine resentment over a guilty world. Some read, in 
its glaring visage, the fate of nations, and the fall of 
kmgdoms.f To others, it shook or seemed to shake, 
pestilence and war from its horrid hair. For my part, I 
am not so superstitious as to regard what every astrolo- 
ger has to prognosticate upon the accession of a comet, 
or the projection of its huge vapory train. Nothing can 
be more precarious and unjustifiable, than to draw such 
conclusions from such events ; since they neither are pre- 
ternatural effects, nor do they throw the frame of things 
into any disorder. I would rather adore that Omnipo- 
tent Being, who rolled those stupendous orbs from his 
creating hand, and leads them, by his providential 
eye, through unmeasurable tracts of sether ; who bids 
them now approach the sun, and glow with insufferable 
ardors ; J now retreat to the utmost bounds of our 

* — Liquidd si quando node cometas 
Sanguinei lugubre rubent. — Virgil. 



Crinemque timendl 



Sideris, et terris mutantem regna cometem. — Lucan. 

$ The comet in the year 1680, according to Sir Isaac Newton's 

computation, was, " in its nearest approach, above a hundred and 

sixty-six times nearer the sun than the earth is ; consequently, its 

heat was then twenty-eight thousand times greater than that of sum- 



ON THE NIGHT. 271 



planetary system, and make their entry among other 
worlds. 

They are harmless visitants. I acquit them from the 
charge of causing, or being accessory to, desolating 
plagues. Would to God there were no other more for- 
midable indications of approaching judgment, or impend- 
ing ruin ! But, alas ! when vice becomes predominant, 
and irreligion almost epidemical; when the sabbaths 
of a jealous God are notoriously profaned ; and that 
" Name, which is great, wonderful, and holy," is pros- 
tituted to the meanest, or abused to the most execrable 
purposes ; when the worship of our great Creator and 
Preserver is banished from many of the most conspicuous 
families, and it is deemed a piece of rude impertinence 
so much as to mention the gracious Redeemer in our 
genteel interviews ; when it passes for an elegant freedom 
of behavior to ridicule the mysteries of Christianity, and 
a species of refined conversation to taint the air with 
lascivious hints ; when those, who sit in the scorned s 
chair, sin with a high hand ; and many of those, who 
wear the professor'' s garb, are destitute of the power, and 
content themselves with the mere form of godliness ; 
when such is the state of a community, there is reason, 
too apparent reason, to be horribly afraid. Such phe- 
nomena, abounding in the moral world, are not fanciful 
but real omens. Will not an injured God " be avenged 
on such a nation as this ?" Will he not be provoked to 
" sweep it with the besom of destruction ?"* 

! that the inhabitants of Great Britain would lay 
these alarming considerations to heart ! The Lord of 

mer ; so that a ball of iron as big as the earth, heated by it, would 
hardly become cool in fifty thousand years." — Derham's Astro. 
Theol. p. 237. 

* Isa. xiv. 23. — The Eternal Sovereign, speaking of Babylon, de- 
nounces this threatening, I will sweep it with the besom of destruction. 
What a noble but dreadful image is here ! How strongly and aw- 
fully portrayed ! How pregnant also in its signification ! intimating 
the vile nature, and expressing the total extirpation, of this wicked 
people ; at the same time suggesting the perfect ease with which the 
righteous God would execute his intended vengeance. 



272 CONTEMPLATIONS 

Hosts has commanded the sword of civil discord to 
return into its sheath. But have we returned, every one 
from his evil ways ? Are we become a renewed people, 
devoted to a dying Saviour, and zealous of good works? 
What mean those peals of sobs which burst from the 
expiring cattle ? What mean those melancholy moans, 
where the lusty droves were wont to low ?* What mean 
those arrows of untimely death, discharged on our inno- 
cent and useful animals ? 

No wantonness or sloth has vitiated the blood of these 
laborious, temperate creatures. They have contracted 
no disease from unseasonable indulgences and inordi- 
nate revellings. The pure stream is their drink, the 
simple herb their repast. Neither care disturbs their 
sleep, nor passion inflames their breast. Whence then 
are they visited with such terrible disorders, as no pru- 
dence can prevent, nor any medicines heal ? Surely, 
these calamities are the weapons of divine displeasure, 
and manifest chastisements of an evil generation, f 
Surely God, the " God to whom vengeance belongeth," 
has still a controversy with our sinful land. And who 
can tell where the visitation will end ? What a storm 
may follow these prelusive drops! 0! that we may 
"hear the rod, and who hath appointed it!" Taught 
by these penal effects of our disobedience, may we 
remove the accursed thing\ from our tents, our practices, 
our hearts ! May we turn from all ungodliness, before 
wrath come upon us to the uttermost, before iniquity 
prove our ruin ! 

Sometimes, at this hour, another most remarkable 

* If these papers should be so happy as to outlive their author, 
perhaps it may be needful to inform posterity that the above men- 
tioned hints allude to a most terrible, contagious and mortal dis- 
temper, raging among the horned cattle in various parts of the 
kingdom. 

-j- Hinc last is vituli vulgo moriuntur in herbis, 
Et dukes animas plena ad prsesepia reddunt. 
Balatu hinc pecorum, et crebris mugitibus amnes, 
Arentesque sonant ripae, collesque supinu — Virgil. 

\ Josh. iv. 18. 



ONTHEN1GHT. 273 

sight amuses the curious, and alarms the vulgar. A 
blaze of lambent meteors is kindled, or some very extra- 
ordinary lights are refracted, in the quarters of the north. 
The streams of radiance, like legions rushing to the 
engagement, meet and mingle ; insomuch that the air 
seems to be all conflicting fire. Within a while they 
start from one another, and, like legions in precipitate 
flight, sweep each a separate way through the firmament. 
Now they are quiescent ; anon they are throw: into a 
quivering motion ; presently the whole horizon is illumi- 
nated with the glancing flames ; sometimes, with an 
aspect awfully ludicrous, they represent extravagant and 
antic vagaries: at other times you would suspect that 
some invisible hand was playing off the dumb artillery 
of the sides, and, by a strange expedient, giving us the 
flash without the roar. 

The villagers gaze at the spectacle, first with wonder, 
then with horror. A general panic seizes the country. 
Every heart throbs, and every face is pale. The crowds 
that flock together, instead of diminishing, increase the 
dread. They catch contagion from each other's looks 
and words ; while fear is in every eye, and every tongue 
speaks the language of terror. Some see hideous shapes, 
armies mixing in fierce encounter, or fields swimming 
with blood. Some foresee direful events, states over- 
thrown, or mighty monarchs tottering on their thrones. 
Others, scared with still more frightful apprehensions, 
think of nothing but the day of doom. " Sure," says 
one, " the unalterable hour is struck, and the end of all 
things come." " See," replies another, " how the 
blasted stars look wan ! Are not these the signs of the 
Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven ?" " Jesus 
prepare us," cries a third, and lifts his eyes in devotion, 
" for the archangel's trump, and the great tribunal !" 

If this waving brightness, w^hich plays innocently over 
our heads, be so amazing to multitudes, what inex- 
pressible consternation must overwhelm unthinking mor- 
tals when the general conflagration commences ! The 
day, the dreadful day, is approaching, in the which the 



274 CONTEMPLATIONS 



heavens shall pass away with a great noise;* and the ele- 
ments shall melt with fervent heat ; the earth also, and 
all the works that are therein, shall be burnt up. That 
mighty hand, which once opened the windows from or. 
high, and broke up the fountains of the great deep, will 
then unlock all the magazines of fire, and pour a secona 
deluge upon the earth. The vengeful flames, kindled by 
the breath of the Almighty, spread themselves from the 
centre to the circumference. Nothing can withstand 
their impetuosity, nothing can escape their rage. Uni- 
versal desolation attends their progress. Magnificent 
palaces, and solemn temples, are laid in ashes ; spacious 
cities, and impregnable towers, are mingled in one 
smoking mass. Not only the productions of human art, 
but the works of Almighty power, are fuel for the devour- 
ing element. The everlasting mountains melt, like the 
snows which cover their summit. Even vast oceans 
serve only to augment the inconceivable rapidity and 
fury of the blaze. O ! how shall I, or others, stand 
undismayed amidst the glare of a burning world, unless 
the Lord Jehovah be our defence ? How shall we be 
upheld in security, w r hen the globe itself is sinking in 
the fiery ruin, unless the Rock of Ages be our support. 
Behold ! a new spectacle of w r onder ! The moon is 

* 2 Pet iii. 10. — I have often thought this verse an eminent 
instance of that kind of beautiful writing, in which the very sound 
bears a sort of significancy ,• at least, carries an exact correspond- 
ence with the sense. The original expression — pot&Sov — is one of the 
hoarsest and deepest words in language. Nothing could be more 
exquisitely adapted to affect the ear, as well as impress the imagina- 
tion, with the wreck of nature, and the crash of a falling world. I 
scarce ever read this clause, but it brings to my mind that admired 
description in Milton: 

On a sudden open fly, 

With impetuous recoil and jarring sound, 
The infernal doors, and on their hinges grate 
Harsh thunder. 

It is a pleasing employ, and a very laudable office of true criticism, 
to point out these inferior recommendations of the Sacred Classics; 
though, I beheve, the inspired writers themselves, amidst all the 
elevation and magnificence of their divine ideas, disdained a scru- 
pulous attentioi to such litte niceties of style. 



ON THE NIGHT. 275 

making her entry on the eastern sky. See her rising in 
clouded majesty ; opening, as it were, and asserting her 
original commission to rule over the night. All grand and 
stately, but somewhat sullied is her aspect. However, 
she brightens as she advances^ and grows clearer as she 
climbs higher, till at length her silver loses all its dross ; 
she unveils her peerless light, and becomes u the beauty 
of heaven, the glory of the stars ;"* delighting every 
eye, and cheering the whole world with the brightness 
of her appearance and the softness of her splendors. ! 
thou queen of the shades ! may it be my ambition to 
follow this thy instructive example ! While others are 
fond to transcribe the fashions of little courts, and to 
mimic personages of inferior state ; be it mine to imitate 
thy improving purity ! May my conduct become more 
unblemished, and my temper more refined, as I proceed 
farther and farther in my probationary course ! May 
every sordid desire wear away, and every irregular 
appetite be gradually lost, as I make nearer approaches 
to the celestial mansions ! Will not this be a comfort- 
able evidence, that I too shall shine in my adored Re- 
deemer's kingdom ; shine with a richer lustre than that 
which radiates from thy resplendent orb ; shine with an 
unfading lustre, when every ray that beams from thy 
beauteous sphere is totally extinguished ? 

The day afforded us a variety of entertaining sights. 
These were all withdrawn at the accession of darkness. 
The stars, kindly officious, immediately lent us- their aid. 
This served to alleviate the frown of night, rather than 
to recover the objects from their obscurity. A faint ray, 
scarcely reflected, and not from the entire surface of 
things, gave the straining eye a very imperfect glimpse, 
such as rather mocked than satisfied vision. Now the 
moon is risen, and has collected all her beams, the veil 
is taken off* from the countenance of nature. I see the 
recumbent flocks ; I see the green hedge-rows, though 
without the feathered choristers hopping from spray to 

* Eccl. xliii. 9. 
Lucidum cadi decus. — Horace. 



276 CONTEMPLATIONS 

spray. In short, I see once again the world's great 
picture : not, indeed, in its late lively colors, but more 
delicately shaded , and arrayed in softer charms * 

What a majestic scene is here ! Incomparably grand 
and exquisitely fine ! — The moon, like an immense crys- 
tal lamp, pendent in the magnificent ceiling of the 
heavens; the stars, like so many thousands of golden 
tapers, fixed in their azure sockets — all pouring their 
lustre on spacious cities and lofty mountains, glittering 
on the ocean, gleaming on the forest, and opening a 
prospect, wide as the eye can glance, more various than 
fancy can paint, f We are forward to admire the per- 
formances of human art. A landscape, elegantly de- 
signed, and executed with a masterly hand ; a piece of 
statuary, which seems, amidst all the recommendations 
of exact proportion and graceful attitude, to soften into 
flesh, and almost breathe with life ; these little imitations 
of nature we behold with a pleasing surprise. And shall 
we be less affected, less delighted, with the inexpressi- 
bly noble and completely finished original? The ample 
dimensions of Ranelagh's dome, the gay illuminations of 



* Now reigns 

Full orb'd, the moon, and with more pleasing light 
Shadowy sets off the face of things. 

Milton. 

j- As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night, 
O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light ; 
When not a breath disturbs the deep serene, 
And not a cloud overcasts the solemn scene : 
Around her throne the vivid planets roll, 
And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole ; 
O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, 
And tip with silver every mountain's head : 
Then shine the vales ; the rocks in prospect rise ; 
A flood of glory bursts from all the skies ; 
The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, 
Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light. 

Iliad viii. 

I transcribe these lines, because Mr. Pope says they exhibit m the 
original, the finest night-piece in poetry ; and, if they are so beautiful 
in Homers language, who can suspect their suffering any disad- 
vantage from the pen of his admirable translator P 



ON THE NIGHT. 277 



Vauxhall grove, I should scorn to mention on such an 
occasion, were they not the objects of general admi- 
ration. Shall we be charmed with those puny essays of 
finite ingenuity, and touched with no transport at this 
stupendous display of omnipotent skill? at the august 
grandeur and shining stateliness of the firmament, which 
forms an alcove for ten thousand worlds, and is orna- 
mented with myriads of everlasting luminaries? Surely 
this must betray, not only a total want of religion, but 
the most abject littleness of mind and the utmost poverty 
of genius. 

The moon is not barely " an ornament in the high 
places of the Lord,"* bat of signal service to the inhabit- 
ants of the earth. How uncomfortable is deep, pitchy, 
total darkness! especially in the long absence of the 
winter's sun. Welcome, therefore, thrice welcome, this 
auspicious gift of Providence, to enliven the nocturnal 
gloom, and line with silver the raven-colored mantle of 
night! How desirable to have our summer evenings 
illuminated! that we may be able to tread the dewy 
meads, and breathe the delicious fragrance of our gar- 
dens ; especially when the sultry heats render it irksome 
and fatiguing to walk abroad by day ! How cheering 
to the shepherd the use of this universal lantern, as he 
tends his fleecy charge, or late consigns them to their 
hurdled cots! How comfortable and how advantageous 
to the mariner, as he ploughs the midnight main, to 
adjust the tackling, to explore his way, and, under the 
influence of this beaming sconce, to avoid the fatal rock ! 
For these and other beneficial purposes the hand of the 
Almighty has hung the stately branch on high ; and 
filled it with a splendor, not confined to a single edifice, 
or commensurate to a particular square, but diffusive as 
the whole extent of the hemisphere. 

The most faithful of our inferior servants are some- 
times tardy, in their office, sometimes negligent of their 
duty ; but this celestial attendant is most exactly punctual 
?* • ]i f he stated periods of her ministration. If w r e 
* Eccl. xliii. 9. 

24 



278 CONTEMPLATIONS 

choose to prolong our journey after the sun is gone 
down, the moon, during her whole increase, is always 
ready to act in the capacity of a guide. If we are in- 
clined to set out very early in the morning, the moon ; 
in her decrease, prevents the dawn, on purpose to offer 
her assistance ; and, because it is so pleasant a thing 
for the eyes to behold the light, the moon, at her full, 
by a course of unintermitted waiting, gives us, as it 
were, a double day. How apparently has the Divine 
Wisdom interested itself, in providing even for the 
pleasurable accommodation of man ! how desirous that 
he should w r ant no piece of commodious furniture, nc 
kind of delightful convenience ; and, in prosecution of 
these benevolent intentions, has annexed so valuable an 
appendage to the terrestrial globe ! Justly, therefore, 
does the Psalmist celebrate that admirable constitution, 
which ordained the moon and the stars to govern the night, 
as an instance of rich goodness and of mercy which en* 
dureth forever * 

The moon, it is confessed, is no luminous body. All 
the brightness which beautifies her countenance is origi- 
nally in the sun, and no more than transmissively in her. 
That glorious orb is the parent of day, and the palace 
of light. From thence the morning-star gilds her horn,f 
from thence the planetary circles are crowned with lus- 
tre, and from thence the moon derives all her silver 
radiance. It is pleasing to reflect, that such is the case 
with the all-sufficient Redeemer, and his dependent people. 
We are replenished from his fullness. What do we 
possess which we have not received, and what can we 
desire which we may not expect, from that never-failing 
Source of all good ? He is the author of our faith, and 

* Psal. cxxxvi. 9. 

f I might, to justify this expression, observe, that the planet Venus, 
commonly called the morning star, is found, by our telescopes, fre- 
quently to appear horned, or to have a crescent of light, somewhat 
like the moon, a little before or after her conjunction But this 
would be a remark too deep and refined for my scheme, which pro- 
ceeds only upon a superficial knowledge, and the most obvious ap- 
pearances of nature. 



ON THE NIGHT. 279 



the former of our graces. In his unspotted life we see 
the path, in his meritorious death the price, and in his 
triumphant resurrection the proof, of bliss and immor- 
tality. If we offend, and fall seven times a day, he is 
the Lord of our Peace* If we are depraved, and our 
best deeds very unworthy, he is the Lord of our Right- 
eousness.f If we are blind, and even brutish in heavenly 
knowledge, he is the Lord our Wisdom :$ his word dis- 
pels the shades, his Spirit scatters the intellectual gloom, 
his eye looks our darkness into day. In short, we are 
nothing, and " Christ is all." Worse than defective in 
ourselves, "we are complete in him. 55 So that if we 
shine, it is with delegated rays, and with borrowed light. 
We act by a strength, and glory in merits, not our own. 
! may we be thoroughly sensible of our dependence 
on the Saviour! May we constantly imbibe his pro- 
pitious beams, and never, by indulging unbelief, or back- 
sliding into Jolly, withdraw our souls from his benign 
influences ; lest we lose our comfort and our holiness, as 
the fair ruler of the night loses her splendor, when her 
urn is turned from its fountain, || and receives no more 
communications of solar effulgence. 

The moon is incessantly varying, either in her aspect 
or her stages. Sometimes she looks full upon us, and 
her visage is all lustre ; sometimes she appears in profile, 
and shows us only half her enlightened face ; anon a 
radiant crescent but just adorns her brow ; soon it 
dwindles into a slender streak ? till at length all her 
beauty vanishes, and she becomes a beamless orb. 
Sometimes she rises with the descending day, and begins 
her procession amidst admiring multitudes; ere long she 
defers her progress till the midnight watches, and steals 
unobserved upon the sleeping world. Sometimes she 
just enters the edges of the western horizon, and drops 



* Judg. vi. 23. f Jer - xxiii - 6 - * l Cor - *• 30 - 

fl Alluding to those truly poetical lines in Milton: 
Kither, as to their fountain other stars 
Repairing, in their golden urns draw light. 

Pab. Lost. 



2^0 CONTEMPLATIONS 



us a ceremonious visit ; within a while she sets out on 
her nightly tour, from the opposite regions of the east, 
traverses the whole hemisphere, and never offers to 
withdraw till the more refulgent partner of her sway 
renders her presence unnecessary. In a word, she is, 
while conversant among us, still waxing or waning, and 
" never continueth in one stay." 

Such is the moon ; and such are all sublunary things , 
exposed to perpetual vicissitudes. How often and how 
soon have the faint echoes of renown slept in silence, o~ 
been converted into the clamors of obloquy ! The 
same lips, almost with the same breath, cry Hosanna, 
and Crucify. Have not riches confessed their notorious 
treachery a thousand and a thousand times ; either melt- 
ing away, like snow in our hands, by insensible degrees, 
or escaping, like a winged prisoner from its cage, with 
a precipitate flight? Have we not known the bride- 
groom's closet an ante-chamber to the tomb ; and heard 
the voice, which so lately pronounced the sparkling pair 
husband and wife, proclaim an everlasting divorce, and 
seal the decree with that solemn asseveration, " Ashes 
to ashes, dust to dust ?" Our friends , though the medi- 
cine of life ; our health, though the balm of nature ; are 
a most precarious possession. How soon may the first 
become a corpse in our arms, and how easily is the last 
destroyed in its vigor ! You have seen, no doubt, a set 
of pretty painted birds perching on your trees, or sport- 
ing in your meadows: you were pleased with the lovely 
visitants, that brought beauty on their wings, and melody 
in their throats. But could you insure the continuance 
of this agreeable entertainment ? No, truly. At the least 
disturbing noise, at the least terrifying appearance, they 
start from their seats, they mount the skies, and are gone 
in an instant, are gone for ever. Would you choose to 
have a happiness which bears date with their arrival, 
and expires at their departure ? If you could not be 
content with a portion, enjoyable only through such a 
fortuitous term, not of years, but of moments, ! take 
up with nothing earthly, set your affections on things 



ON THE NIGHT. 281 



above : there alone is " no variableness or shadow of 
turning." 

Job is not a more illustrious pattern of patience, than 
an eminent exemplification of this remark. View him 
in his private estate : he heaps up silver as the dust, he 
washes his steps in butter, and the rock pours him out 
rivers of oil. View him in his public character : princes 
revere his dignity, the aged listen to his wisdom, every 
eye beholds him with delight, every tongue loads him 
with blessings. View him in his domestic circumstances: 
on one hand he is defended by a troop of sons, en the 
other adorned with a train of daughters, and on all sides 
surrounded by " a very great household." Never was 
human felicity so consummate ; never was disastrous 
revolution so sudden. The lightning which consumed 
his cattle was not more terrible, and scarce more instan- 
taneous. The joyful parent is bereft of his offspring, 
and his " children are buried in death ;" the man of 
affluence is stripped of his abundance, and he who was 
clothed in scarlet embraces the dunghill. The vener- 
able patriarch is the derision of scoundrels ; and the late 
darling of an indulgent Providence is become " a brother 
to dragons, a companion of owls." Nor need we go 
back to former ages for proofs of this afflicting truth. In 
our times, in all times, the wheel continues the same 
incessant whirl ; and, frequently, those who are triumph- 
ing to-day in the highest elevations of joy, to-morrow are 
bemoaning the instability of mortal affairs in the very 
depths of misery.* Amidst so much fluctuation and 

* I believe I may venture to apply what the Temanite says of the 
affairs of the wicked to all sublunary things, as a true description 
of their very great instability, — Job, xxii. 16. nDlID^ p v V lj"U ren- 
dered by Sehultem, Flumen fusum fundamentum eorum. Their foun- 
dation (or what they reckon their most solid and stable possession) 
is a flood poured out ,• which is one of the boldest images, and most 
poetical beauties, I ever met with in any language, sacred or pro- 
fane. In order to have a tolerable conception of the image, and a 
taste of its beauty, you must suppose a torrent of waters, rushing in 
broken cataracts, and with impetuous rapidity, from a steep and 
craggy mountain. Then, imagine to yourself an edjiee, built upon 
the surge of this rolling precipice, which has no other basis than 

24* 



282 CONTEMPLATIONS 

uncertainty, how wretched is the condition which has 
no anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast. May thy 
loving-kindness, God, be our present treasure, and 
thy future glory our reversionary inheritance ! Then 
shall our happiness not be like the full-orbed moon, 
which is " a light that decreaseth in its perfection," but 
like the sun when he goeth forth in his strength, and 
knoweth no other change but that of shining more and 
more unto the perfect day. 

Methinks, in this ever varying sphere I see a repre- 
sentation, not only of our temporal advantages, but also 
of our spiritual accomplishments. Such, I am sure, is 
w r hat the kind partiality of a friend would call my right- 
eousness ; and such, I am apt to suspect,* is the righteous- 
ness of every man living. Now we exercise it in some 
few r instances, in some little degrees ; anon sin revives, 
and leads our souls into a transient, though unwilling 

one of those headlong whirling waves. Was there ever such a re- 
presentation of transitory prosperity, tending, with inconceivable 
swiftness, unto ruin 1 Yet such is every form of human felicity 
that is not grounded on Jesus, and a participation of his merits, who 
is the Rock of Ages ; on Jesus, and his image formed in our hearts, 
which is the hope of glory. 

* I would not be understood as measuring in this respect others 
by myself but as taking my estimate from the unerring standard of 
Scripture. And, indeed, proceeding on this evidence, supported by 
this authority, I might have ventured farther than a bare suspicion : 
for "there is not a. just man upon earth, that doeth good, and sinneth 
not" says the Spirit of inspiration, by Solomon. — Eccl. vii. 20. Nay, 
such is the purity, and so extensive are the demands of the divine 
law, that an apostle makes a still more humbling acknowledgment: 
"In many things we offend all." — James, iii. 2. And the unerring 
Teacher, who most thoroughly knew our frame, directs the most 
advanced, most established, and most watchful Christians, to pray 
daily for the forgiveness of their daily trespasses. To which testi- 
monies, I beg leave to add an elegant passage from the Canticles,- 
because it not only expresses the sentiment of this paragraph, but 
illustrates it by the very same similitude. She (the church) is fair 
as the moon ,• clear as the sun. Fair as the moon, the lesser and 
changeable light, in her sanctification ,• clear as the sun, the greater 
and invariable luminary, in her justification : the inherent holiness 
of believers being imperfect, and subject to many inequalities ; 
while their imputed righteousness is every way complete, and con- 
stantly like itself. — Cant. vi. 10. 



ON THE NIGHT. 283 



captivity. Now we are meek: but soon a ruffling acci- 
dent intervenes, and turns our composure into a fretful 
disquietude. Now we are humble ; soon we reflect upon 
some inconsiderable or imaginary superiority over others, 
and a sudden elatement swells our minds. Now, per- 
haps, w r e possess a clean heart, and are warm with holy 
love ; but ! how easily is the purity of our affections 
sullied ; how soon the fervor of our gratitude cooled ! 
And is there not something amiss, even in our best mo- 
ments ; something to be ashamed of in all we are ; some- 
thing to be repented of in all we do ? 

With what gladness, therefore, and adoring thankful- 
ness, should we " submit to the righteousness of our 
incarnate God ;" and receive, as a divine gift, what 
cannot be acquired by human works!* A writer of the 
first distinction and nicest discernment, styles the obe- 
dience of our glorious Surety, an everlasting righteous- 
ness ;f such as was subject to no interruption, nor ob- 
scured by the least blemish ; but proceeded always in 
the same uniform tenor of the most spotless perfection. 
This righteousness, in another sense, answers the pro- 
phet's exalted description ; as its beneficial and sovereign 
efficacy knows no end ; but lasts through all our life, 
lasts in the trying hour of death, lasts at the decisive 
day of judgment, lasts through every generation, and 
will last to all eternity. 

Sometimes I have seen that resplendent globe stripped 
of her radiance; or, according to the emphatical lan- 
guage of the Scripture, " turned into blood. 5 ' The earth, 
interposing with its opaque body, intercepted the solar 
rays, and cast its own gloomy shadow on the moon. 
The malignant influence gained upon her sickening orb ; 
extinguished more and more the feeble remainders of 
light; till at length, like one in a deep swoon, no comeli- 
ness was left in her countenance ; she was totally over- 
spread with darkness. At this juncture, what a multitude 
of eyes were gazing upon the rueful spectacle ! even of 
those eyes which disregarded the empress of the night, 
* Rom. v. 17 ; x. 3. f Dan. ix. 24. 



284 CONTEMPLATIONS 

or beheld her with indifference, when robed in glory, 
and riding in her triumphal chariot, she shed a softer 
day through the nations. But now, under these circum- 
stances of disgrace, they watch her motions with the 
most prying attention. In every place, her misfortune 
is the object of general observation, and the prevailing 
topic of discourse in every company. 

Is it not thus, with regard to persons of eminence, in 
their respective spheres? Kings, at the head of their 
subjects ; nobles, surrounded with their dependents ; 
and (after names of so much grandeur, may I be allowed 
to add ?) ministers laboring among their people ;* are 
each in a conspicuous station. Their conduct in its 
minutest step, especially in any miscarriage, will be nar- 
rowly surveyed, and critically scanned. Can there be 
a louder call, to ponder the paths of their feet, and to be 
particularly jealous over all their ways ? Those who 
move in inferior life, may grossly offend, and little alarm 
be given, perhaps no notice taken ; but it is not to be 
expected, that the least slip in their carriage, the least 
flaw r in their character, will pass undiscovered. Malice, 
with her eagle-eyes, will be sure to discern them ; w T hile 
censure, with her shrill trumpet, will be as far from con- 
cealing them, as calumny, with her treacherous whispers, 
from extenuating them. A planet may sink below the 
horizon ; or a star, for several months, withdraw its 
shining ; and scarce one in ten thousand perceive the 
loss; but if the moon suffers a transient eclipse, almost 
half the world are spectators of her dishonor. 

Very different was the case, when at this late hour, I 
have taken a solitary walk on the western cliffs. At the 
foot of the steep mountain, the sea, all clear and smooth, 
spread itself into an immense plain, and held a watery 
mirror to the skies. Infinite heights above, the firma- 
ment stretched its azure expanse ; bespangled with un- 
numbered stars, and adorned with the moon, " walking 
in brightness."! She seemed to contemplate herself 

* Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill, can- 
not be hid.— Matt v. 14. f Job, xxxi. 26. 



ON THE NIGHT. ?85 



with a peculiar pleasure, while the transparent surface 
both received and returned her silver image. Here, 
instead of being covered with sackcloth, she shone with 
double lustre ; or rather, with a lustre multiplied, in 
proportion to the number of beholders, and their various 
situations. 

Such, methinks, is the effect of an exemplary be- 
havior in persons of exalted rank. Their course, as it 
is nobly distinguished, so it will be happily influential ; 
others will catch the diffusive ray, and be ambitious to 
resemble a pattern so attracting, so commanding. Their 
amiable qualities will not terminate in themselves, but 
we shall see them reflected from their families, their 
acquaintance, their retainers; just as we may now 
behold another moon, trembling in the stream,* glitter- 
ing in the canal, and displaying its lovely impress on 
every collection of waters. 

The moon, philosophy says, is a sort of sovereign over 
the great deep : her orb, like a royal sceptre, sways the 
ocean, and actuates the fluid realms ; it swells the tides 
and perpetuates the reciprocal returns of ebb and flow ; 
by which means, the liquid element purges off* its filth, 
and is preserved from being putrefied itself, and from 
poisoning the world. Is the moon thus operative on the 
vast abyss ; and shall not the faith of eternal and infinite 
delights to come, be equally efficacious on this soul of 
' mine ? Far above her argent fields are treasures of hap- 
piness, unseen by mortal eye, by mortal ear unheard, 
and un conceived by any human imagination. In that 
desirable world, the most distinguished and exalted 
honors also are conferred ; in comparison with which, 
the thrones and diadems of earthly monarchs are empty 
pageants and childish toys. Yonder arch of sapphire, 
with all its spangles of gold, is but the floor of those 
divine abodes. What then are the apartments ; w T hat is 
the palace ? How bright with glories ; how rich with dUss ! 

O ' ye mansions of blessedness, ye beauties of my 
Father's kingdom, which far outshine these lamps of the 
* Splendet tremub sub lumine pontus. — Virgil. 



286 CONTEMPLATIONS 

visible heaven, transmit your sweet and winning invita- 
tions to my heart. Attract and refine all my affections ; 
withdraw them from stagnating on the sordid shores of 
flesh ; never suffer them to settle upon the impure lees 
of sense ; but impress them with emotions of restless 
desires after sublime and celestial joys ; joys, that will 
proceed, still proceed in a copious and everlasting flow, 
when seas shall cease to roll ; joys, that will charm 
every faculty with unimaginable pleasure, when the 
moon, with her waxing splendors, shall cheer our sight 
no more. 

Enough for the present evening. My thoughts have 
been sufficiently exercised, and my steps begin to be at- 
tended with weariness. Let me obey the admonition of 
nature, and give respite to my meditations, slumber to 
my eyes. But stay. Shall I retire to the bed of sleep 
with as little ceremony, and with as much inattention as 
the brutes to their sordid lair ? Are no acknowledgments 
due to that Divine Being, who is the support of my life, 
and the length of my days? Have I no farther need of 
his protecting care, no more occasion for the blessings 
of his goodness ? Lepidus, perhaps, may laugh at the 
bended knee ; and have a thousand darts of raillery 
ready to discharge on the practice of devotion. The 
wits, I know, are unmercifully severe on what they call 
the drudgery of prayer, and the fantastical rant of praise. 
These they leave to the illiterate laborer and the mean * 
mechanic ; or treat them with a contemptuous sneer, as 
the parson's ignoble trade. 

Is it, then, an instance of superstitious blindness to dis- 
tinguish, or of whimsical zeal to celebrate, the most 
supereminent excellency and merit ? Is it an ungraceful 
business, or does it argue a groveling disposition, to 
magnify goodness transcendently rich and diffusive ? 
What can be so truly becoming a dependent state, as to 
pay our adoring homage to the Author of all perfection, 
and profess our devoted allegiance to the supreme 
Almighty Governor of the universe ? Can any .hing 
more significantly bespeak an ingenuous temper, or ad- 



ON THE NIGHT. 287 



minister a more real satisfaction to its finest feelings, 
than the exercises of penitential devotion; by which we 
give vent to an honest anguish, or melt into filial sorrow 
for our insensibility to the best of friends, for our dis- 
obedience to the best of parents ? In a word, can there 
be a more sublime pleasure, than to dwell, in fixed con- 
templation, on the beauties of the Eternal Mind ; the 
amiable original of all that is fair, grand, and harmonious ; 
the beneficent giver of all that is convenient, comfort- 
able, and useful? Can there be a more advantageous 
employ, than to present our requests to the Father of 
Mercies ; opening our minds to the irradiations of his 
wisdom, and all the faculties of our souls to the com- 
munications of his grace ? — It is strange, unaccountably 
strange, that the notion of dignity in sentiment, and the 
pursuit of refined enjoyment, should ever be disunited 
from devotion ; that persons, who make pretensions to 
an improved state and exalted genius, should neglect 
this most ennobling intercourse with the wisest and 
best of beings, the inexhaustible source of honor and joy. 
Shall I be deterred from approaching this source of 
the purest delight? deterred from pursuing this highest 
improvement of my nature ? deterred from all by a for- 
midable banter, or confuted by one irrefragable smile ? 
No ; let the moon in her resplendent sphere ; and yon- 
der pole, with all its starry train, witness, if I be silent 
even or morn ; if I refrain to kindle in my heart, and 
breathe from my lips, the reasonable incense of praise ; 
praise to that great, and glorious God, who formed the 
earth, and built the skies ; who poured from his hand 
the watery world, and shed the all-surrounding air 
abroad- — " Thou also madest the night, Maker Omnipo- 
tent! and Thou, the day! which I, though less than the 
least of all thy mercies, have passed in safety, tranquil- 
lity, and comfort. When I was lost in the extravagance 
of dreams, or lay immersed in the insensibility of sleep ; 
thy hand recovered me from the temporary lethargy ; 
thy hand set a new, and delicately fine edge, on all my 
blunted senses, and strung my sinews with recruited 



288 CONTEMPLATIONS 



vigour. When my thoughts were benumbed and stupe- 
fied, thy quickening influence roused them into activity ; 
when they were disconcerted and wild, thy regulating 
influence reduced them into order ; refitting me at once 
to relish the innocent entertainments of an animal, and 
to enjoy the sublime gratifications of a rational capacity. 
When darkness covered the creation, at thy command 
the sun arose ; painted the flowers, and distinguished 
every object; gave light to my feet, and gave nature, 
with all her beautiful scenes, to my eye. To Thee, 
Thou God of my strength, I owe the continuance of my 
being, and the vivacity of my constitution. By thy sa- 
cred order, without any consciousness of mine, the 
wheels of life move, and the crimson fountain plays. 
Overruled by thy exquisite skill, it transforms itself, by 
the nicest operations of an inexplicable kind of chemis- 
try, into a variety of the finest secretions, which glide 
into the muscles, and swell them for action ; or pour 
themselves into the fluids, and repair their incessant de- 
cays ; which cause cheerfulness to sparkle in the eye, 
and health to bloom in the cheek. 

u Disastrous accidents, injurious to the peace of my 
mind, or fatal to the welfare of my body, beset my 
paths ; but thy faithfulness and truth, like an impene- 
trable shield, guarded me all around. Under this divine 
protection, I walked secure amidst legions of apparent 
perils ; and passed through a far greater multiplicity of 
unseen evils. Not one of my bones was broken ; not a 
single shaft grazed upon my ease ; even when the eye 
that watched over me, saw, in its wide survey thousands 
falling beside me in irrecoverable ruin, and ten thousands 
deeply wounded on my right hand. If sickness has at 
any time saddened my chamber, or pain harrowed my 
flesh, it was a wholesome discipline and a gracious 
severity : the chastisement proved a sovereign medicine 
to cure me of an immoderate fondness for this imperfect 
troublesome state, and to quicken my desires after the 
unimbittered enjoyments of my eternal home. Has not 
thy munificence, unwearied and unbounded, spread my 



ON THE NIGHT. 289 



table, and furnished it with the finest wheat, replenished 
it with marrow and fatness ; while temperance sweetened 
the bowl, appetite seasoned the dish, contentment and 
gratitude crowned the repast ? Has not thy kindness, 
O God of the families of Israel, preserved my affectionate 
relations, who study, by their tender offices, to soften 
every care, and heighten every joy ? Has net thy kind- 
ness given me valuable friends, whose presence is a 
cordial to cheer me in a dejected hour, and whose con- 
versation mingles improvement with delight? 

" When sin lay disguised amidst flowery scenes of 
pleasure ; enlightened by thy wisdom, I discerned the 
latent mischief; made resolute by thy grace, I shunned 
the luscious bane. If, through the impulse of sensuality 
or the violence of passion, I have been hurried into the 
snare, and stung by the serpent ; thy faithful admonitions 
have recalled the foolish wanderer, while the blood of 
thy Son has healed his deadly wounds. Some, no doubt, 
have been cut off in the midst of their iniquities ; and 
transmitted, from the thrillings of polluted joy, to the 
agonies of eternal despair: whereas I have been dis- 
tinguished by long-suffering mercy; and, instead of lift- 
ing up my eyes in torments, to behold a heaven irre- 
coverably lost, I may lift them up under the pleasing 
views of being admitted, ere long, into those abodes of 
endless felicity. In the mean time, thou hast vouch- 
safed me the revelation of thy will, the influences of thy 
Spirit, and abundance of the most effectual aids for 
advancing in knowledge and growing in godliness ; for 
becoming more conformable to thy image, and more 
meet for thy presence ; for tasting the pleasures of reli- 
gion, and securing the riches of eternity. 

" How various is thy beneficence, O thou Lover of 
souls ! It has unsealed a thousand sources of good ; 
opened a thousand avenues of delight ; and heaped 
blessings upon me with a ceaseless liberality. If I should 
attempt to declare them, they would be more than the 
starry host which glitter in this unclouded sky ; more than 
the dewy gems which will adorn the face of the morning. 

25 



290 CONTEMPLATIONS, &c. 

" And shall I forget the God of ray salvation, the 
author of all my mercies ? Rather let my pulse forget 
to beat ! Shall I render him no expressions of thankful- 
ness ? Then might all nature reproach my ingratitude. 
Shall I rest satisfied with the bare acknowledgment of 
my lips? No, let my life be vocal, and speak his 
praise, in that only genuine, that most emphatical 
language — the language of devout obedience. Let the 
bill be drawn upon my very heart ; let all my affections 
acknowledge the draught ; and let the whole tenor of my 
actions, in time and through eternity, be continually pay- 
ing the debt, the ever-pleasing, ever-growing debt, of 
duty, veneration, and love. 

" And can I, thou Guide of my goings, and Guar- 
dian of all my interests, can I distrust such signal, such 
experienced goodness ? Thou hast been my helper through 
all the busy scenes of day ; therefore under the shadow 
of thy wings will I repose myself, during the darkness, 
the danger, and death-like inactivity of the night. What- 
ever defilement I have contracted, wash it thoroughly 
away in redeeming blood ; and let neither the sinful stain, 
nor the sinful inclination, accompany me to my couch ! 
Then shall I lay me down in peace, and- take my rest ; 
cheerfully referring it to thy all-wise determination, 
whether I shall open my eyes in this world, or awake in 
the unknown regions of another." 



CONTEMPLATIONS 



ON 



THE STARRY HEAVENS. 



There dwells a noble pathos in the skies, 
Which warms our passions, proselytes our hearts. 
How eloquently shines the glowing pole ! 
With what authority it gives its charge, 
Remonstrating great truths in style sublime ! 

Night Thoughts. 




CONTEMPLATIONS 



THE STARRY HEAVENS. 





= HIS evening I exchange the nice 
Hi retreats of art for the noble theatre 
of nature. Instead of measuring 
my steps under the covert of an 
arbor, let me range along the 
summit of this gently-rising hill. 
I There is no need of the leafy 
J shade, since the sun has quitted 
the horizon, and withdrawn his 
scorching beams. But see, how advantages 
and inconveniences are usually linked, and 
chequer our affairs below I If the annoying 
heat ceases, the landscape and its pleasing 
scenes are also removed. The majestic 
castle and the lowly cottage are vanished 
together. I have lost the aspiring moun- 



294 CONTEMPLATIONS 



tain and its russet brow ; I look round, but to no purpose, 
for the humble vale and its flowery lap. The plains 
whitened with flocks, and the heath yellow with furze, 
disappear. The advancing night has wrapped in dark- 
ness the long-extended forest ; and drawn her mantle 
over the windings of the silver stream. I no longer 
behold that luxuriant fertility in the fields, that wild 
magnificence of prospect, and endless variety of images, 
which have so often touched me with delight, and 
struck me with awe, from this commanding eminence. 

The loss, however, is scarcely to be regretted, since 
it is amply compensated by the opening beauties of the 
sky. Here I enjoy a free view of the whole hemisphere, 
without any obstacle from below, to confine the explor- 
ing eye ; or any cloud from above, to overcast the spa- 
cious concave. 'Tis true, the lively vermilion, which 
so lately streaked the chambers of the west, is all faded ; 
but the planets, one after another, light up their lamps ; 
the stars advance in their glittering train ; a thousand 
and a thousand luminaries shine forth in successive 
splendors, and the whole firmament is kindled into the 
most beautiful glow. The blueness of the asther, height- 
ened by the season of the year, and still more enlivened 
by the absence of the moon, gives those gems of heaven 
the strongest lustre. 

One pleasure more the invading gloom has not been 
able to snatch from my sense ; the night rather im- 
proves than destroys the fragrance which exhales from 
the blooming beans : with these the sides of this sloping 
declivity are lined ; and with these the balmy zephyrs 
perfume their wings. Does Jlrabia, from all her spicy 
groves, breathe a more liberal or a more charming gale 
of sweets ? And, what is a peculiar recommendation of 
the rural entertainments presented in our happy land, 
they are alloyed by no apprehensions of danger. No 
poisonous serpent lurks under the blossom ; nor any 
ravenous beast lies ready to start from the thicket. — But 
I wander from a more exalted subject. My thoughts, 
like my affections, are too easily diverted from the 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 295 

heavens and detained by inferior objects. Away, my 
attention, from these little blandishments of the earth, 
since all the glories of the sky invite thy regard. 

We have taken a turn among the tombs, and viewed 
the solemn memorials of the dead, in order to learn the 
vanity of mortal things, and to break their soft enchant- 
ment. We have surveyed the ornaments of the garden; 
not that the heart might be planted in the parterre, or 
take root among the flowery race ; but that these deli- 
cacies of a day might teach us to aspire after a better 
paradise, where beauty never fades, and delight is ever 
in the bloom. A third time we lighted the candle of 
meditation, and sought for wisdom, not in the crowded 
city or wrangling schools, but in the silent and lonely 
walks of ancient night* Let us once more induce the 
contemplative vein, and raise our speculations to those 
sublimer works of the great Creator, which the regions 
of the sky contain, and this dusky hour unveils, f 

If we have discerned the touches of his pencil, glow- 
ing in the colors of spring; if we have seen a sample 
of his beneficence, exhibited in the stores of nature ; 
and a ray of his brightness, beaming in the blaze of day ; 
what an infinitely richer field for the display of his per- 
fections are the heavens! The heavens, in the most em- 
phatical manner, declare the glory of God. The heavens 
are nobly eloquent of the Deity, and the most magnifi- 
cent heralds of their Maker's praise. They speak to 
the whole universe ; for there is neither speech so 
barbarous, but their language is understood ; nor nation 
so distant, but their voices are heard among them. J 
Let me then, in this solemn season, formed for though* 
and a calm intercourse with heaven; let me listen to 
their silent lectures : perhaps I may receive such impres 

* Referring to the several subjects of the three preceding essays 

\ Night opes the noblest scenes, and sheds an awe 
Which gives those venerable scenes full weight, 
And deep reception in the entender'd heart. 

Night Thoughts. 
t Psal. xix. 3. 



296 CONTEMPLATIONS 

sive manifestations of " the Eternal Power and God- 
head," as may shed religion on my soul, while I walk 
the solitary shades ; and may be a tutelary friend to my 
virtue, when the call of business, and the return of light, 
expose me again to the inroads of temptation. 

The Israelites, instigated by frenzy rather than de- 
votion, worshipped the host of heaven ; and the pre- 
tenders to judicial astrology talk of, I know not what, 
mysterious efficacy in the different aspect of the stars, or 
the various conjunction and opposition of the planets. 
Let those who are unacquainted with the sure word of 
revelation, give ear to these sons of delusion and dealers 
in deceit ; for my part, it is a question of indifference 
to me, whether the constellations shone with smiles, or 
lowered- in frowns, on the hour of my nativity. Let 
Christ be my guard, and, secure in such a protection, I 
would laugh at their impotent menaces. Let Christ be 
my guide, and I shall scorn to ask, as well as despair of 
receiving any predictory information from such senseless 
masses. What! shall "the living seek to the dead?"* 
Can these bodies advertise me of future events, which 
are unconscious of their own existence? Shall I have 
recourse to dull, unintelligent matter, when I may apply 
to that all-wise Being, who, with one comprehensive 
glance, distinctly views whatever is lodged in the bosom 
of immensity, or forming in the womb of futurity ? Never, 
never will I search for any intimations of my fate, but 
often trace my Creator's footsteps in yonder starry plains, f 

* Isa. viii. 19. 

•j- " It is most becoming (says a great author) such imperfect 
creatures as we are, to contemplate the works of God with this 
design, that we may discern the manifestations of wisdom in them, 
and thereby excite in ourselves those devout affections, and that 
superlative respect, which is the very essence of praise, as it is a 
reasonable and moral service." — Abernetht ox the Attributes. 

And, indeed, if we are sincerely disposed to employ ourselves in 
this excellent, this delightful duty of praising the infinite Creator, 
the means and the motives are both at hand. His works, in a won- 
derful and instructive variety, present themselves with pregnant 
manifestations of the most transcendent excellences of their Maker. 
They pour their evidence from all quarters, and into all the avenues 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 397 



In the former case, they would be teachers of lies ; in 
the latter, they are oracles of truth. In this, therefore, 
this sense only, I profess myself the pupil of the stars. 

The vulgar are apprehensive of nothing more than a 
multitude of bright spangles, dropped over the ethereal 
blue. They have no higher notion of these fine appear- 
ances, than that they are so many golden studs, with 
which the empyrean arch is decorated. But studious 
minds, that carry a more accurate and strict inquiry 
among the celestial bodies, bring back advices of a most 
astonishing import. Let me just recollect the most ma- 
terial of those stupendous discoveries, in order to furnish 
out proper subjects for contemplation. And let the un- 
learned remember, that the scene I am going to display, 
is the workmanship of that incomprehensible God, who 
is " perfect in knowledge, and mighty in power ;" whose 
name, whose nature, and all whose operations, are 
" great and marvellous ;" who summons into being, 
with equal ease, a single grain or ten thousand worlds. 
To this if we continually advert, the assertions, though 
they will certainly excite our admiration, need not trans- 
cend our belief. 

The earth is, in fact, a round body, however it may 
seem in some parts to be sunk into vales, and raised into 
hills ;* in other parts, to be spread into a spacious plain, 
extending to the confines of the heavens, or terminated 

of the mind. They invite us, especially, in the magnificent system 
of the universe, to contemplate — counsel, consummately wise ; and 
execution, inimitably perfect ; power, to which nothing is impossible ; 
and goodness, which extendeth to all, which endureth forever. To 
give, not a full display, but only some slight strictures of these glo- 
rious truths, is the principal scope of the following remarks. 

* A learned writer, I think Dr. Derham, has somewhere an obser- 
vation to this purpose : " That the loftiest summits of hills, and the 
most enormous ridges of mountains, are no real objection to the 
globular or round form of the earth; because, however they may 
render it to our limited sight, vastly uneven and protuberant, yet 
they bear no more proportion to the entire surface of the terraqueous 
ball, than a particle of dust, casually dropped on. the mathematician's 
globe, bears to its whole circumference : consequently, the rotund 
figure is no more destroyed in the former case, than in the latter." 
On the same principle, I have not thought it necessary to take any 



298 CONTEMPLATIONS 



by the waters of the ocean. We may fancy, that it has 
deep foundations, and rests upon some prodigiously solid 
basis. But it impendent in the wide, transpicuous ether, 
without any visible cause to uphold it from above, or 
support it from beneath. It may seem to be sedentary 
in its attitude, and motionless in its situation ; but it is 
continually sailing* through the depths of the sky, and 
in the space of twelve months finishes the mighty 
voyage : which periodical rotation produces the seasons, 
and completes the year. As it proceeds in the annual 
circuit, it spins upon its own centre, and turns its sides 
alternately to the fountain of light : by which means, the 
day dawns in one hemisphere, while the night succeeds 
in the other. Without this expedient, one part of its 
regions would, during half the great revolution, be 
scorched with excessive heat, or languish under an un- 
intermitted glare ; while the other, exposed to the con- 
trary extremes, would be frozen to ice, and buried under 
a long oppression of dismal and destructive darkness. 

I cannot forbear taking notice, that in this compound 
motion of the earth, the one never interferes w T ith the 
other, but both are perfectly compatible. Is it not thus 
with the precepts of religion, and the needful affairs of 
the present life, not excepting even the innocent gratifi- 
cations of our appetites ? Some, I believe, are apt to 
imagine, that they must renounce society if they devote 
themselves to Christ ; and abandon all the satisfactions 
of this world, if they once become zealous candidates 
for the felicity of another. But this is a very mistaken 
notion, or else a very injurious representation, of the 
doctrine which is according to godliness. It w T as never 
intended to drive men into deserts, but to lead them 
through the peaceful and pleasant paths of wisdom, 

notice of the comparatively small difference between the polar and 
equatorial diameter of the earth. 

* With what amazing speed this vessel, (if I may carry on the 
allusion,) filled with a multitude of nations, and freighted with all 
their possessions, makes her way through the ethereal space, see 
page 311, in note. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 299 

into the blissful regions of life eternal. It was never 
intended to strike off the wheels of business, or cut in 
sunder the sinews of industry ; but rather to make men 
industrious from a principle of conscience, not from the 
instigations of avarice ; that so they may promote their 
immortal happiness, even while they provide for their 
temporal maintenance. It has no design to extirpate 
our passions, but only to restrain their irregularities ; 
neither would it extinguish the delights of sense, but 
prevent them from evaporating into vanity, and sub- 
siding into gall. A person may be cheerful among his 
friends, and yet joyful in God. He may taste the sw r eets 
of his earthly estate, and at the same time cherish his 
hopes of a nobler inheritance in heaven. The trader 
may prosecute the demands of commerce, without neg- 
lecting to negotiate the affairs of his salvation. The 
warrior may wear his sword, may draw in a just cause 
that murderous weapon, yet be a good soldier of Jesuy 
Christ, and obtain the crown which fadeth not away. 
The 'parent may lay up a competent portion for hi* 
children, and not forfeit his title to the treasures either 
of grace or of glory. So far is Christianity from obstruct- 
ing any valuable interest, or withholding any real pleas- 
ure, that it improves the one and advances the other : 
just as the diurnal and annual motions are so far from 
clashing, that they entirely accord: and, instead of being 
destructive of each other, by mutually blending their 
effects, they give proportion and harmony to time, fer- 
tility and innumerable benefits to nature. 

To us who dwell on its surface, the earth is by far the 
most extensive orb that our eyes can any where behold. 
It is also clothed with verdure, distinguished by trees, 
and adorned with a variety of beautiful decorations. 
Whereas to a spectator placed on one of the planets, ii 
wears a uniform aspect, looks all luminous, and no 
larger than a spot ; to beings who dwell at still greater 
distances, it entirely disappears. That which we call, 
alternately, the morning and the evening star; as in 
one part of her orbit, she rides foremost in the proces- 



300 CONTEMPLATIONS 

sion of night; in the other, ushers in and anticipates the 
dawn ; is a planetary world ; which, with the four others, 
that so wonderfully vary their mystic dance, are in them- 
selves dark bodies, and shine only by reflection : have 
fields, and seas, and skies of their own ; are furnished 
with all accommodations for animal subsistence, and are 
supposed to be the abodes of intellectual life : all which, 
together with this our earthly habitation, are dependent 
on that grand dispenser of divine munificence, the sun ; 
receive their light from the distribution of his rays, and 
derive their comforts from his benign agency. 

The sun, which seems to perform its daily stages 
through the sky, is, in this respect,* fixed and immov- 
able. 'Tis the great axle of heaven, about which the 
globe we inhabit, and the other more spacious orbs, 
wheel their stated courses. The sun, though seemingly 
smaller than the dial it illuminates, is abundantly larger 
than the whole earth ;\ on which so many lofty moun- 
tains rise, and such vast oceans roll. A line extending 
from side to side, through the centre of that resplendent 
orb, would measure more than eight hundred thousand 
miles ; a girdle, formed to go round its circumference, 
would require a length of millions : were its solid con- 
tents to be estimated, the account would overwhelm our 
understanding, and be almost beyond the power of lan- 
guage to express. J Are we startled at these reports of 
philosophy? Are we ready to cry out, in a transport of 
surprise: "How mighty is the Being who kindled such 
a prodigious fire, and keeps alive, from age to age, such 

* I say, in this respect, that I may not seem to forget or exclude tae 

revolution of the sun round its own axis. 

f A hundred thousand times, according to the lowest reckoning. 
Sir Isaac Newton computes the sun to be 900,000 times bigger than 
the earth. — Religious Philosopher, p. 749. 

t Dr. Derham, after having calculated the dimensions of the 
planets, adds: "Amazing as these masses are, they are all far out- 
done by that stupendous globe of light, the sun ; which, as it is the 
fountain of light and heat to all the planets about it, so doth it far 
surpass them all in its bulk : its apparent diameter being computed 
at 822,148 English miles, its ambit at 2.582,873, miles, and its solid 
contents at 290,971,000,000,000,00( ."— Astro-Theol., Book I. chap. ii. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 301 

an enormous mass of flame!" Let us attend our philo- 
sophic guides, and we shall be brought acquainted with 
speculations more enlarged and more amazing. 

This sun, with all its attendant planets, is but a very 
little part of the grand machine of the universe. Every 
star, though in appearance no bigger than the diamond 
that glitters upon a lady's ring, is really a vast globe, like 
the sun in size and in glory; no less spacious, no less 
luminous, than the radiant source of our day; so that 
every star is, not barely a world, but the centre of a 
magnificent system ; has a retinue of worlds, irradiated by 
its beams, and revolving round its attractive influence; 
all which are lost to our sight, in unmeasurable wilds 
of sether. That the stars appear like so many diminu- 
tive and scarce distinguishable points, is owing to their 
immense and inconceivable distance. Immense and 
inconceivable indeed it is; since a ball, shot from the 
loaded cannon, and flying with unabated rapidity, must 
travel, at this impetuous rate, almost seven hundred 
thousand years,* before it could reach the nearest of 
those twinkling luminaries. 

Can any thing be more wonderful than these obser- 
vations? Yes; there are truths far more stupendous; 
there are scenes far more extensive. As there is no end 
of the Almighty Maker's greatness, so no imagination 
can set limits to his creating hand. Could you soar be- 
yond the moon, and pass through all the planetary choir; 
could you wing your way to the highest apparent star, 
and take your stand on one of those loftiest pinnacles of 
heaven ; you would there see other sides, expanded ; 
another sun, distributing his inexhaustible beams by 
day ; other stars, that gild the horrors of the alternate 
night; and other, \ perhaps nobler systems, established ; 

* See Religious Philosopher, p. 819. 

•j- See Astro-Theology, Book II. chap, ii., where the author, having 
assigned various reasons to support this theory of our modern astro- 
nomers, adds : "Besides the fore-mentioned strong probabilities, we 
have this farther recommendation of such an account cf the 
universe, that it is far more magnificent, and worthy of the infinite 
Creator, than any other of the narrower schemes." 

26 



302 CONTEMPLATIONS 



established, in unknown profusion, through the boundless 
dimensions of space. Nor does the dominion of the 
universal Sovereign terminate there. Even at the end 
of this vast tour, you would find yourself advanced no 
farther than the suburbs of creation ; arrived only at the 
frontiers of the great Jehovah's kingdom.* 

And do they tell me that the sun, the moon, and all 
the planets, are but a little part of his works ? How 
great , then, are his signs! and how mighty are his 
wonders !\ And if so, what is the Creator himself? how 
far exalted above all praise ! who is so high, that he 
looks down on the highest of these dazzling spheres, 
and sees even the summit of creation in a vale ; so 
great, that this prodigious extent of space is but a point 
in his presence ; and all this confluence of worlds as the 
lightest atom that fluctuates in air, and sports in the 
meridian ray.f 

* Job, after a most beautiful dissertation on the mighty works of 
God, as they are distributed through universal nature, from the 
heights of heaven to the very depths of hell, closes the magnificent 
account with this acknowledgment: Lo ! these are parts of his ways; 
or, as the original word more literally signifies, and may, I think, be 
more elegantly rendered : These are only the skirts, the very outer- 
most borders of his works ; no more than a small preface to the 
immense volume of the creation. From the Hebrew n?^p? extremi- 
ties, I cannot forbear thinking on the extreme and very attenuated 
fibres of the root, when compared with the whole substance of the 
trunk ; or on the exquisitely small size of the capillary vessels, when 
compared with the whole structure of the body. — Job, xxvi. 14. 

f Dan. iv, 3. 

i This puts me in mind of a very fine remark on a Scriptural 
beauty, and a solid correction of the common translation, made by 
that learned, sagacious, and devout expositor, Vitringa. lsa. xl. 15., 
we find it written of the Supreme Being, that he taketh up the isles 
as a very little thing ,• which, our critic observes, is neither answer- 
able to the import of the original, nor consonant to the structure of 
the discourse. The prophet had no intention to inform mankind 
what the Almighty could do with regard to the islands, if he pleased 
to exert uncontrollable power: his design was to show how insig- 
nificant, or rather what mere nothings they are in his esteem, and 
before his majesty. The islands, says he, though so spacious as to 
afford room for the erection of kingdoms, and the abode of nations; 
though so strong as to withstand, for many thousands of years, the 
raging and reiterated assaults of the whole watery world; are yet, 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 3Q3 

Thou most sublime and incomprehensibly glorious 
God, how am I overwhelmed with awe ; 'how sunk into 
the lowest prostration of mind ; when I consider thy 
excellent greatness, and my own utter insignificancy ! 
And have I, excessively mean as I am, have I enter- 
tained any conceited apprehensions of myself? Have I 
felt the least elatement of thought in the presence of so 
majectic and adorable a Being? How should this 
wound me with sorrow, and cover me with confusion ! 
O my God, was I possessed of all the high perfections 
which accomplish and adorn the angels of light ; amidst 
all these noble endowments, I would fall down in the 
deepest abasement at thy feet. Lost in the infinitely 
superior blaze of thy uncreated glories, I would confess 
myself to be nothing, to be less than nothing, and vanity. 
How much more ought I to maintain the most unfeigned 
humiliation before thy divine majesty, who am not only 
dust and ashes, but a compound of ignorance, imper- 
fection, and depravity ! 

While beholding this vast expanse, I learn my own 
extreme meanness ; I would also discover the abject lit- 
tleness of all terrestrial things. What is the earth, with 
all her ostentatious scenes, compared with this astonish- 
ingly grand furniture of the skies ? What, but a dim 
speck, hardly perceivable in the map of the universe ? 
It is observed by a very judicious writer,* that if the sun 
himself, which enlightens this part of the creation, was 
extinguished, and all the host of planetary worlds which 
move about him were annihilated, they would not be 
missed by an eye that can take in the whole compass of 
nature, any more than a grain of sand upon the sea 
shore. The bulk of which they consist, and the space 
which they occupy, is so exceedingly little in corn- 
before the adored Jehovah, small as the minutest grain which the eye 
can scarce discern ; light as the feathered mote which the least 
breath hurries away like a tempest. i)W plD CD^X? Insulae sunt ut 
leve quid, quod avolat. The deep-rooted islands are as the volatile atom, 
which, by the gentlest undulations of the air, is wafted to and fro in 
perpetual agitation. 

* Spect. vol. viii. No. 565. 



304 CONTEMPLATIONS 



parison of the whole, that their loss would scarce leave 
a blank in the Immensity of God's works. If, then, not 
our globe only, but this whole system, be so very dimi- 
nutive, what is a kingdom, or a country? what are a 
few lordships, or the so much admired patrimonies of 
those who are styled wealthy ?* When I measure them 
with my own little pittance, they swell into proud and 
bloated dimensions ; but when I take the universe for 
my standard, how scanty is their size, how contemptible 
their figure! They shrink into pompous nothings. \ 

When the keen-eyed eagle soars above all the feathered 
race, and leaves their very sight below ; when she wings 
her way, with direct ascent, up the steep of heaven, and, 
steadily gazing on the meridian sun, accounts its beam- 
ing splendors all her own ; does she then regard, with 
any solicitude, the mote that is flying in the air, or the 
dust which she shook from her feet? And shall this 
eternal mind, which is capable of contemplating its 
Creator's glory; which is intended to enjoy the visions 
of his countenance ; shall this eternal mind, endued with 
such great capacities ; and made for such exalted ends, 
be so ignobly ambitious as to sigh for the tinsels of state ; 
or so poorly covetous as to gasp after ample territories 
on a needle's point? No ; under the influence of such 
considerations I feel my sentiments expand, and my 
wishes acquire a turn of sublimity. My throbbing 
desires after worldly grandeur die away ; and I find 
myself, if not possessed of power, yet superior to its 
charms. Too long, must I own, have my affections been 
pinioned by vanity, and immured in this earthly clod. 
But these thoughts break the shackles. \ These objects 

* Juvat inter sidera vagantern divitum pavimenta ridere, et totam cum 
auro suo terram. — Seneca. 

■j- Terrellac grandia inania. — Watts's Hon. Ltr. 
t The soul of man was made to walk the skies, 
Delightful outlet of her prison here ! 
There, disencumbered from her chains, the ties 
Of toys terrestrial, she can rove at large ; 
There freely can respire, dilate, extend, 
In full proportion let loose all her powers. 

Night Thoughts 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 305 

open the door of liberty. My soul, fired by such noble 
prospects, weighs anchor from this little nook, and coasts 
no longer about its contracted shores, doats no longer on 
its painted shells. The immensity of things is her range, 
and an infinity of bliss is her aim. 

Behold this immense expanse, and admire the con- 
descension of thy God. In this manner, an inspired and 
princely astronomer improved his survey of the nocturnal 
heavens. When I consider thy heavens, even the works of 
thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast or- 
dained, I am smitten with wonder at thy glory, ana cry 
out, in a transport of gratitude, Lord, what is man, tha* 
thou art mindful of him ; or the son of man, that thoK 
visiteth him 6 }* " How amazing, how r charming, is thai 
divine benignity, which is pleased to bow down itit 
sacred regards to so foolish and worthless a creature ! 
yea, disdainr not, from the height of infinite exaltation, 
to extend its kind providential care to our most minute 
concerns! This is amazing; but that the Everlasting 
Sovereign should give his Son, to be made flesh, and 
become our Saviour! Shall I call it a miracle of con- 
descending goodness ? rather, what are all miracles, 
what are all mysteries, to this ineffable gift?" 

Had the brightest archangel been commissioned to 
come down with the olive-branch of peace in his hand, 
signifying his Eternal Maker's readiness to be reconciled ; 
on our bended knees, with tears of joy, and a torrent of 
thankfulness, we ought to have received the transporting 
news ; but when instead of such an angelic envoy, he 
sends his only-begotten Son, his Son beyond all thought 
illustrious, to make us the gracious overture ; sends him 
from the " habitation of his holiness and glory," to put 
on the infirmities of mortality, and dwell in a tabernacle 
of clay ; sends him, not barely to make us a transient 
visit, but to abide many years in our inferior and miser- 
able world ; sends him, not to exercise dominion over 
monarchs, but to wear out his life in the ignoble form 
of a servant; and, at last, to make his exit under the 
* Psal. viii. 3, 4. 

26* 



306 CONTEMPLATIONS 

infamous character of a malefactor ! Was ever love like 
this ? Did ever grace stoop so low ?* Should the sun 
be shorn of all his radiant honors, and degraded into a 
clod of the vallies ; should all the dignitaries of heaven 
be deposed from their thrones, and degenerate into insects 
of a day, great, great would be the abasement ; but 
nothing to thine, most blessed Jesus; nothing to thine, 
thou Prince of Peace ; when, for us men and for our 
salvation, thou didst not abhor the coarse accommoda- 
tions of the manger ; thou didst not decline even the 
gloomy horrors of the grave, 

5 Tis well the sacred oracles have given this doctrine 
the most explicit confirmation, and evidence quite in- 
contestable ; otherwise a favor so undeserved, so un- 
expected, and rich beyond all imagination, might stagger 
our belief. Could He, who launches all these planetary 
globes through the illimitable void, and leads them on, 
from age to age, in their extensive career ; could he 
resign his hands, to be confined by the girding cord, and 
his back to be ploughed by the bloody scourge? Could 

* This reminds me of a very noble piece of sacred oratory, where, 
in a fine series of the most beautiful gradation, the apostle displays 
the admirably condescending kindness of our Saviour. He thought 
it no robbery, it was his indisputable right, to be equal with the in- 
finite, self-existent, immortal God; yet, in mercy to sinners, he 
emptied himself of the incommunicable honors, and laid aside the 
robes of incomprehensible glory. When he entered upon his me- 
diatorial state, instead of acting in the grand capacity of universal 
sovereign, he took upon him the form of a servant ,- and not the form 
of those ministering spirits whose duty is dignity itself; who are 
throned, though adoring. He took not on him the nature of angels, 
but stooped incomparably lower ; assumed a body of animated dust, 
and luas made in the likeness of men, those inferior and depraved crea- 
tures. Astonishing condescension ! but not sufficient for the over- 
flowing richness of the Redeemer's love; for, being found in fashion 
as a man, he humbled himself farther still; he occupied the lowest 
place, where all was low and ignoble. He not only submitted to the 
yoke of the law, but also bore the infirmities, and ministered to the 
necessities of mortals. He even washed the feet of others, and had 
not where to lay his own head. Yea, he carried his meritorious 
humiliation to the very deepest degrees of possible abasement. He 
became obedient unto death ,• and not to a common or natural death, 
but a death more infamous than the gibbet, more torturing than the 
rack; even the accursed death of the cross. — Phil. ii. 6, 7, 8. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 3Q7 

He ? who crowns all the stars with inextinguishable bright' 
ness, be himself defiled with spitting, and disfigured with 
the thorny scar ? It is the greatest of wonders, and yet 
the surest of truths. 

O ! ye mighty orbs, that roll along the spaces of the 
sky ; I wondered, a little w T hile ago, at your vast dimen- 
sions, and ample circuits. But now my amazement 
ceases ; or rather, is entirely swallow T ed up by a much 
more stupendous subject. Methinks, your enormous 
bulk is shrivelled to an atom; your prodigious revo- 
lutions are contracted to a span ; while I muse upon the 
far more elevated heights and unfathomable depths, the 
infinitely more extended lengths and unlimited breadths, 
of this love of God in Christ Jesus* 

Contemplating this stately expanse, I see a mirror, 
which represents, in the most awful colors, the heinous- 
ness of human guilt. Ten thousand volumes, w T rote on 
purpose to display the aggravations of my various acts 
of disobedience, could not so effectually convince me of 
their inconceivable enormity, as the consideration of that 
all-glorious Person,\ who, to make an atonement for 
them, spilt the last drop of his blood. I have sinned, 
may every child of Adam say ; and what shall I do unto 
thee, thou Observer of men 9 $ Shall I give my first- 
born for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the 
sin of my soul ? Vain commutation ! and such as would 
be rejected by the blessed God with the utmost abhor- 
rence. Will all the potentates, that sway the sceptre in 
a thousand kingdoms, devote their royal and honored 
lives to rescue an obnoxious creature from the stroke 
of vengeance ? Alas ! it must cost more, incomparably 

* Eph. iii. 18, 19. 

| Quo quisque altius ascendit in agnitione Christi, eo profundius 
peccati atrocitatem cognoscet. 

* Job, vii. 20. — Not Preserver, as it stands in our version, but Ob- 
server of men; which phrase, as it denotes the exact and incessant 
inspection of the divine eye ; as it intimates the absolute impossi- 
bility that any transgression should escape the divine notice ; is 
evidently most proper, both to assign the reason, and heighten the 
emphasis of the context. 



308 CONTEMPLATIONS 

more, to expiate the malignity of sin, and save a guilty 
wretch from hell. Will all the principalities of heaven 
be content to assume my nature, and resign themselves 
to death for my pardon ?* Even this would be too mean 
a satisfaction for inexorable justice ; too scanty a repa- 
ration of God's injured honor. So flagrant is human 
guilt, that nothing but a victim of infinite dignity could 
constitute an adequate propitiation. He who said, " Let 
there be light, and there was light ;" Let there be a fir- 
mament, and immediately the blue curtains floated in 
the sky ; he must take flesh ; he must feel the fierce tor- 
ments of crucifixion, and jdout out his soul in agonies, 
if ever such transgressors are pardoned. 

How vast is that debt which all the wealth of both 
the Indies cannot discharge ! How vitiated that habit 

* Milton sets this thought in a very poetical and striking light. All 
the sanctities of heaven stand round the throne of the Supreme Ma- 
jesty. God foresees and foretells the fall of man : the ruin which 
will unavoidably ensue on his transgression ; and the utter impos- 
sibility of his being able to extricate himself from the abyss of 
misery : 

He, with his whole posterity, must die ; 

Die he or justice must ; unless for him 

Some other able, and as willing, pay 

The rigid satisfaction, death for death. 
After which affecting representation, intended to raise the most 
tender emotions of pity, the following inquiry is addressed to all the 
surrounding angels : 

Say, heavenly powers, where shall we find such love! 

Which of you will be mortal, to redeem 

Man's mortal crime 1 and die, the dead to save 1 

He ask'd ; but all the heavenly choir stood mute, 

And silence was in heaven. 
There is, to me, at least, an inimitable spirit and beauty in the 
last circumstance — that such an innumerable multitude of generous 
and compassionate beings should be struck dumb with surprise and 
terror at the very mention of the deadly forfeiture and ransom set / 
N o language is so eloquent as this silence. Words could not pos- 
sibly have expressed, in so emphatical a manner, the dreadful nature 
of the task ; the absolute inability of any or all creatures to execute 
it ; the supereminent and matchless love of the eternal Son, in under- 
taking the tremendous work, not only without reluctance, but, un- 
sought and unimplored, with readiness, alacrity, and delight. — Para- 
dise Lost. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 3Q9 

of body, which all the drugs produced by nature herself 
cannot rectify ! But how much more ruined was thy 
condition, my soul ! how much more heinous were thy 
crimes ! since nothing less than the sufferings and death 
of Messiah, the Son of God, and radiant image of his 
glory, could effect thy recovery, or cancel thy iniquity. 
Though, perhaps, thou art not sunk so very deep in 
pollution as some of the most abandoned profligates, yet 
remember the inestimable ransom paid to redeem thee 
from everlasting destruction. Remember this, and 
" never open thy mouth any more,"* either to murmur 
at the divine chastisements, or to glory in thy own attain- 
ments. Remember this ; and even " loathe thyself f for 
the multitude of thy provocations," and thy great 
baseness. 

Once more ; let me view this beautiful, this magnifi- 
cent expanse, and conceive some juster apprehensions 
of the unknown richness of my Saviours atonement. I 
am informed by a writer who cannot mistake, that the 
High Priest of my profession, who was also the sacrifice 
for my sins, is higher than the heavens ;\ more exalted in 
dignity, more bright with glory, than all the heavenly 
mansions, and all their illustrious inhabitants. If my 
heart was humbled at the consideration of its excessive 
guilt, how do all my drooping powers revive at this de- 
lightful thought ? The poor criminal, that seemed to be 
tottering on the very brink of the infernal pit, is raised, 
by such a belief, even to the portals of paradise. My 
self-abasement, I trust, will always continue ; but my 
fears under the influence of such a conviction, are quite 
gone. || I do not, I cannot, doubt the efficacy of this 

* Ezek. xvi. 63. f Ezek. xxxvi. 31. * Heb. vii. 26. 

|| I am sorry to find, that some of my readers were a little dis- 
gusted at this expression, my fears are quite gone; as thinking it dis- 
covered a tincture of arrogance in the writer, and tended to discou- 
rage the weak Christian. But, I hope, a more mature consideration 
will acquit me from both these charges. For what has the author 
said 1 Only, that at some peculiarly happy moments, when the Holy 
Ghost bears witness of Christ in his heart, and he is favored with a 
glimpse of the Redeemer's matchless excellency; that, in these 



210 CONTEMPLATIONS 

propitiation. While I see a glimpse of its matchless ex- 
cellency, and verily believe myself interested in its merits, 
I know not what it is to feel any misgiving suspicions ; 
but am steadfast in faith, and joyful through hope. 

Be my iniquities like debts of millions of talents, here 
is more than full payment for all that prodigious sum. 
Let the enemy of mankind, and accuser of the brethren, 
load me with invectives ; this one plea — a divine Re- 
deemer died — most thoroughly quashes every indictment. 
For, though there be much turpitude, and manifold 
transgressions, " there is no condemnation to those that 
are in Christ Jesus." — Nay, were I chargeable with all 
the vilest deeds which have been committed in every 
age of the world, by every nation of men ; even in this 
most deplorable case, I need not sink into despair. Even 
such guilt, though grievous beyond all expression, is not 
to be compared with that abundance of grace and right- 
eousness which dwell in the incarnate Divinity. How 
great, how transcendently glorious are the perfections of 
the adored Jehovah ! so great, so superlatively precious, 
is the expiation of the dying Jesus. 'Tis impossible for 
the human mind to exalt this atonement too highly ;* 
'tis impossible for the humble penitent to confide in it too 

brighter intervals of life, his trembling fears, with regard to the de- 
cisive sentence of the great tribunal, are turned into pleasing expec- 
tations. And what is there in such a declaration, offensive to the 
strictest modesty, or dispiriting to the weakest believer] Instead of 
creating discouragement, it points out the way to obtain a settled 
tranquillity : its natural tendency is, to engage the serious mind in a 
more constant and attentive meditation on the unknown merits of 
the divine Mediator; and were we more thoroughly acquainted, more 
deeply affected, with his unutterable dignity, I am persuaded our 
uneasy apprehensions would proportionally vanish, our faith be 
established, our hopes brightened, and our joys enlarged. 

* This doctrine, though rich with consolation to the ruined sinner, 
yet is it not likely to open a door for licentiousness, and embolden 
transgressors to prosecute their vices'? No; it is the most powerful 
motive to that genuine repentance, which flows from an unfeigned 
love of God, and operates in a hearty detestation of all sin. One who 
knew the unmeasurable goodness of the Lord, and was no stranger 
to the sinful perverseness of our nature, says, There is mercy with 
thee, therefore shall thou be feared. — Psal. cxxx. 4. Words full to 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 3H 



steadily. The Scriptures, the Scriptures of eternal truth 
have said it, (exult my soul in the belief of it !) that the 
blood on which we rely is God's own blood f and there- 
fore all-sufficient to expiate, omnipotent to save. 

David, that egregious sinner, but more exemplary 
saint, seems to have been well acquainted with this 
comfortable truth. What else can be the import of that 
very remarkable, but most devout declaration, Thou 
shall purge me\ with hyssop, and I shall be clean ; thou 
shalt wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. — " I have 
been guilty, I must confess, of the most complicated and 
shocking crimes ; crimes, inflamed by every aggravating 
circumstance, with regard to myself, my neighbor, and 
my God : myself, who have been blessed above men, 
and the distinguished favorite of Providence ; my neigh- 
bor, who, in the most dear and tender interests, has been 
irreparably injured ; my God, who might justly expect 
the most grateful returns of duty, instead of such enor- 
mous violations of his law. Yet, all horrid and execrable 
as my offence is, it is nothing to the superabundant merit 
of that great Redeemer, who was promised from the 
foundation of the world ; in whom all my fathers trusted ; 
who is the hope of all the ends of the earth. Though 
my conscience be more loathsome with adulterous im- 
purity than the dunghill ; though treachery and murder 
have rendered it even black as the gloom of hell ; yet, 
washed in the c fountain opened for sin and for unclean- 
ness,'J I shall be, 1 say not pure only — -this were a dis- 
paragement to the efficacy of my Saviour's death ; but I 
shall be fair as the lily, and white as the snow. Nay, 

m) r purpose, which at once add the highest authority to this senti- 
ment, and direct our minds to its proper influence and due improve- 
ment. 

* Acts, xx. 28. 

f Psal. li. 7. — Thou shalt purge. I prefer this translation before 
the new one; because this speaks the language of a more stedfast 
belief, and gives the highest honor to the divine goodness. Were 
the words intended to bear no more than the common petitionary 
sense, and not to be expressive of a noble plerophory of faith, they 
would rather havF been \3>ttDn and 'JD33 imperatives, not futures. 

i Zech. xiii. 1. 



312 CONTEMPLATIONS 

let me not derogate from the glorious object of my con- 
fidence ; cleansed by this sovereign sanctifying stream, 
I shall be fairer than the full-blown lily, whiter than the 
new-fallen snows." 

Power ', saith the Scripture, belongeth unto God* And 
in what majestic lines is this attribute of Jehovah writ- 
ten, throughout the whole volume of the creation ? 
especially through those magnificent pages, unfolded in 
yonder starry regions ; which are therefore styled by the 
sweet and seraphic, singer of Israel, " the firmament of 
his power ;"f because the grand exploits of Omnipotence 
are there displayed with the utmost pomp, and recorded 
in the most legible characters. 

Who, that looks upward to the midnight sky, and, 
with an eye of reason, beholds its rolling wonders ; who 
can forbear inquiring, Of what were those mighty orbs 
formed ? Amazing to relate ! they were produced with- 
out materials; they sprang from emptiness itself: the 
stately fabric of universal nature emerged out of nothing ! 
What instruments were used by the Supreme Architect, 
to fashion the parts with such exquisite niceness, and 
give so beautiful a polish to the whole ? How was all 
connected into one finely-proportioned and nobly-finished 
structure? A bare fiat accomplished all. " Let them be," 
said God. He added no more ; and immediately the 
marvellous edifice arose, adorned with every beauty, dis- 
playing innumerable perfections, and declaring, amidst 
enraptured seraphs, its great Creators praise. " By the 
word of the Lord were the heavens made, and all the 
hosts of them by the breath of his mouth. "J What 

* Psal. lxx. 11. f Psal. cl. 1. 

t If this thought is admitted a second time, and suffered to ennoble, 
the next paragraph; it is partly because of its unequalled sublimity : 
partly, because it awakens the most grand idea of creating power; 
and partly, because the practice of the Psalmist, an authority too 
great to be controverted, is my precedent. The beautiful stanza 
quoted from Psal. xxxiii. 6, is a proof how thoroughly the royal poet 
entered into the majesty of the Mosaic narration. The repetition of 
the sentiment, ver. 9, intimates how peculiarly he was charmed with 
that noble manner of describing the divine operations ; while the turn 
of his own composition shows how perfectly he possessed the same 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 313 

forceful machinery fixed some of those ponderous globes 
on an immovable basis? What irresistible impulse 
bowled others through the circuit of the heavens ? What 
coercive energy confined their impetuous course, within 
limits astonishingly large, yet most minutely trtfe ? No- 
thing but his sovereign will ! For all things were at first 
constituted, and all to this day abide, " according to his 
ordinance." 

Without any toilsome assiduity, or laborious process, 
to raise, to touch, to speak such a multitude of immense 
bodies into being ; to launch them through the spaces of 
the sky, as an arrow from the hand of a giant ; to im- 
press on such unwieldy masses a motion far outstripping 
the swiftness of the winged creation,* and to continue 
them in the same^ rapid whirl for thousands and thou- 
sands of years. — What an amazing instance of infinite 
might is this! Can any thing be impossible to the Lord, 
the Lord God, the Creator and Controller of all the ends 
of the earth, all the regions of the universe ? Rather, is 
not all that we count difficulty perfect ease to that glorious 
Being, who only spake, and the world was made ;f who 
only gave command, and the stupendous axle was 
lodged fast, the lofty wheels moved complete ? What 
a sure defence, my soul, is this everlasting strength 

elevated way of thinking ; and this long before Longlnus wrote the 
celebrated treatise, which has taught the heathen, as well as the 
Christian world, to admire the dignity of the Jewish legislator's style. 
— Vid. Longin. de Subliot. Sect. ix. 

* To give one instance of this remark. The earth, in the diurnal 
revolution which it performs on its own axis, whirls about at the rate 
of about a thousand miles an hour. And as the great orbit, which it 
describes annually round the sun, is reckoned at 540 millions of 
miles, it must travel near a million and a half each day. What a 
force must be requisite to protrude so vast a globe, and wheel it on, 
loaded as it is with huge mountains and ponderous rocks, at such a 
prodigious degree of rapidity ! It surpasses human conception ! 
How natural, how pertinent, how almost necessary, after such an 
observation, is the acknowledgment made by holy Job : I know that 
thou canst do every thing ,- and that no thought, no imaginable scheme, 
can be withholden from thee, can lie beyond thy power to execute.— ■ 
Chap. xlii. 2. 

f Psal xxxiii. 9. 

27 



314 CONTEMPLATIONS 

of thy God ! Be this thy continual refuge in the article 
of danger : this thy never-failing resource in every time 
of need. 

What cannot this uncontrollable power of the great 
Jehovah effect for his people ? Be their miseries ever 
so galling, cannot this God relieve them ? Be their 
wants ever so numerous, cannot this God supply them ? 
Be their corruptions within ever so inveterate,, or their 
temptations without ever so importunate, cannot this 
mighty, mighty God subdue the former, and fortify them 
against the latter? Should trials , with an incessant 
vehemence, sift thee as wiieat; should tribulation , with 
a weight of woes, almost grind thee to powder ; should 
pleasure^ with her bewitching smiles, solicit thee to de- 
licious ruin ; yet " hold thee fast by God," and lay thy 
help upon him that is omnipotent.* Thou canst not be 

* It is a most charming description, as well as a most comfortable 
promise, which we find in Isa. xl. 29, 30, 31 : He giveth power to the 
feeble ,• and to them that have no might at all he not only imparteth, 
but increaseth strength, making it to abound where it did not so much 
as exist. Without this aid of Jehovah, even the youths, amidst the 
very prime of their rigor and activity, shall become languid in their 
work, and weary in their course. And the young men, to whose re- 
solution and abilities nothing seemed impracticable, shall not only 
not succeed, but utterly fall and miscarry in their various enter- 
prises. Whereas, they that wait upon the Lord, and confide in his 
grace, shall press on with a generous ardor from one degree of reli- 
gious improvement to another. Instead of exhausting, they shall 
renew their strength; difficulties shall animate, and toil invigorate 
them. They shall mount up, as with soaring wings, above all oppo- 
sition; they shall be carried through every discouragement, as eagles 
cleave the yielding air; they shall run with speed and alacrity the 
way of God's commandments, and not be weary ,- they shall hold on 
(DT progredientur, carpent iter) with constancy and perseverance, 
in those peaceful paths, and not faint ; but arrive at the end of their 
progress, and receive the prize of their high calling. 

To this most cheering doctrine permit me to add its no less beau- 
tiful and delightful contrast. Eliphaz, speaking of the enemies of 
the righteous, says : 1JCTO 1T\D2 $h, which is rendered by a great 
critic in sacred learning, Nihil excisum factio nobis adversaria. We 
should reckon our language acquitted itself tolerably well, if, when 
depreciating the abilities of an adversary, it should represent him 
weak as the scorched thread, feeble as the dissolving smoke. But 
these are cold forms of speech, compared with the eloquence of the 
East. According to the genius of our Bible, al 1 the power that 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 3^5 

involved in such calamitous circumstances, or exposed 
to such imminent peril ; but thy God, whom thou servest, 
is able to deliver thee from the one, and to support thee 
under the other. To support ! to deliver ! Let me not 
dishonor the unlimited greatness of his power. He is 
able to exalt thee, from the deepest distress, to the most 
triumphant joy; and to make even a complication of 
evils work together for thy everlasting good. He is 
able, not only to accomplish what I have been speaking, 
but to do exceeding abundantly above all that we can ask 
or think* 

0! the wretched condition of the wicked, who have 
this Lord of all power for their enemy ! ! the desperate 
madness of the ungodly, who provoke the Almighty to 
jealousy ! Besotted creatures ! are you able to contend 
with your Maker, and enter the lists against incensed 
Omnipotence ? Can you bear the fierceness of his wrath, 
or sustain the vengeance of his lifted arm ? At his pre- 
sence, though awfully serene, the hills melt like wax, 
and the " mountains skip like frighted lambs." At the 
least intimation of his displeasure, the foundations of 

opposes the godly, is a mere nothing ; or, to speak with a more 
emphatical air of contempt, a destroyed, an extirpated nothing. 
Admire this expression, ye that are charmed with daring images, 
and (what Tully calls verbum ardens) a spirited and glowing diction. 
Remember this declaration, ye that fight the good fight of faith. The 
united force of all your enemies, be it ever so formidable to the eye 
of flesh, is, before your Almighty Guardian, nihil nihilissimum, not 
only nothing, but less than nothing, and vanity. — Job, xxii. 20. 

* I should, in this place, avoid swelling the notes any farther, was 
it not to take notice of the inimitable passage quoted above, and to 
be found, Eph. iii. 20 ; which, if I do not greatly mistake, is the most 
complete representation of divine power that it is possible for words 
to frame. To do all that our tongue can ask, is a miracle of might. 
But- we often think more than we can express, and are actuated 
with groanings unutterable. Yet, to answer these vast desires, is not 
beyond the accomplishment of our heavenly Father. Nay, to make 
his gifts and his blessings commensurate to the largest stretch of 
human expectations, is a small thing with the God of glory. He is 
able to do above all that the most enlarged apprehension can imagine : 
yea, to do abundantly more, exceeding abundantly more, than the 
mind itself, in the utmost exertion of all its faculties, is capable of 
wishing, or knows how to conceive. 



316 CONTEMPLATIONS 

nature rock, and the "pillars of heaven tremble." How 
then can a withered leaf endure, when " his lips are full 
of indignation, and his tongue as a devouring fire ?" 
Or can any thing screen a guilty worm, when the great 
and terrible God shall whet his glittering sword, and his 
hand take hold on inexorable judgment*! When that 
hand, which shoots the planets, masses of excessive 
bulk,* with such surprising rapidity through the sky ; 
that hand, which darts the comets to such unmeasurable 
distances beyond the orbit of our remotest planet, beyond 
the pursuit of the strongest eye : when that hand is 
stretched out to punish, can the munition of rocks, the 
intervention of seas, or even interposing worlds, divert 
the blow ? Consider this, Jlmbition, and bow thy 
haughty crest. Consider this, Disobedience, and bend 
thy iron sinew. O ! consider this, all ye that forget or 
affront the tremendous Jehovah. He can, by a single 
act of his will, lay the universe in utter ruin ; and can 
he want pow T er to bring you, in a moment, in the twink- 
ling of an eye, to the dust of death, or to the flames of 
hell ? He has, I say, not ten thousand lightnings to 
scorch you to ashes; ten thousand thunders to crush 
you into atoms ; but, what is unspeakably more dread- 
ful, he has an army of terrors, even in the look of his 
angry countenance. His very frown is worse than 
destruction. 

I cannot dismiss this subject without admiring the 
patience of the blessed God ; who, though so strong and 
powerful, yet "is provoked every day." Surely, as is 
his majesty, so is his mercy ; his pity altogether commen- 
surate to his power. If I vilify but the name of an 

* One of the planets (Saturn) is supposed to be more than ninety- 
times as big as the globe on which we live. According to the same 
calculation, the largest of the planets (Jupiter) is above two hundred 
times vaster than this vast collection of spacious forests, towering 
mountains, extensive continents, and boundless oceans. Such enor- 
mous magnitude, winged with such prodigious speed! it raises 
astonishment beyond expression. With God is terrible majesty/ — Job, 
xxxvii. 22. Who shall not fear thee, Lord, and glorify thy name ! — 
Rev, xv* 4. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 317 



earthly monarch, I lose my liberty, and am confined to 
the dungeon. If I appear in arms, and draw the sword 
against my national sovereign, my life is forfeited, and 
my very blood will scarce atone for the crime. But thee 
I have dishonored, O! thou King immortal and invisible! 
Against thee my breast has fomented secret disaffection ; 
my behavior has risen up in open rebellion ; and yet 1 am 
spared, yet I am preserved. Instead of being banished 
from thy presence, I sit at thy table, and am fed from thy 
hand. Instead of pursuing me with thunder-bolts of 
vengeance, thy favors surround me on every side. That 
arm, that injured arm, which might justly fall, with irre- 
trievable ruin, on a traitor's head, is most graciously 
stretched out to caress him with the tenderest endear- 
ments, to cherish him with every instance of parental 
kindness. ! thou mightiest, thou best of Beings, how 
am I pained at my very soul for such shameful and 
odious disingenuity ! Let me always abominate myself 
as the basest of creatures, but adore that unwearied long- 
suffering of thine, w T hich refuses to be irritated ; love 
that unremitted goodness, which no acts of ingratitude 
could stop, or so much as check, in its gracious current. 
! let this stubborn heart, which duty could not bind, 
which threatenings could not awe, be the captive, the 
willing captive, of such triumphant beneficence. 

I have often been struck with wonder at that Almighty 
skill, which weighed the mountains in scales, and the 
hills in a balance ; which proportioned the waters in the 
hollow of its hand, and adjusted the dust of the earth by 
a measure. * But how much more marvellous is that 

* Isa. xl. 12. — The dust of the earth, in this sublime Scripture, 
signifies the dry land, or solid part of our globe ; which is placed in 
contra-distinction to the whole collection of fluid matter, mentioned 
in the preceding clause. Perhaps, this remarkable expression may- 
be intended to intimate, not only the extreme niceness which slated 
the dimensions of the world in general, or in the gross; but also that 
particular exactness, with which the very smallest materials that 
constitute its frame, (not excepting each individual atom,) were 
calculated and disposed. — q. d. 'Tis a small thing to say, no such 
enormous redundancies, as unnecessary ridges of mountains, were 
suffered to subsist. There was not so much as the least grain of 

27* 



318 CONTEMPLATIONS 

magnificent economy which poised the stars with inex- 
pressible nicety, and meted out the heavens with a span! 
where all is prodigiously vast, immensely various, and 
yet more than mathematically exact. Surely the wisdom 
of God manifests itself in the skies, and shines in those 
lucid orbs ; shines on the contemplative mind, with a 
lustre incomparably brighter than that which their united 
splendors transmit to the eye. 

Behold yonder countless multitude of globes ; consider 
their amazing magnitude ; regard them as the sovereigns 
of so many systems, each accompanied with his planet- 
ary equipage. Upon this supposition, what a multipli- 
city of mighty spheres must be perpetually running their 
rounds in the upper regions ! yet none mistake their 
way, or wander from the goal, though they pass through 
trackless and unbounded fields. None/Zy o^from their 
orbits into extravagant excursions ; none press in upon 
their centre with too near an approach. None interfere 
with each other in their perennial passage, or intercept 
the kindly communications of another's influence ;* but 
all their rotations proceed in eternal harmony, keeping 
such time, and observing such laws, as are most exqui- 
sitely adapted to the perfection of the whole. 

While I contemplate this u excellent wisdom which 
made the heavens," and attunes all their motions, how 
am I abashed at that mixture of arrogance and folly, 
which has at any time inclined me to murmur at thy 
dispensations , Lord ! What is this, but a sort of im- 
plicit treason against thy supremacy, and a tacit denial 



sand superfluous, or a single particle of dust deficient. As the grand 
aim of the description is, to celebrate the consummate wisdom 
exemplified in the creation, and to display that perfect proportion with 
which every part tallies, coincides, and harmonizes with the whole, 
I have taken leave to alter the word of our English translation, com- 
prehend, and introduce in its stead a term equally faithful to the 
Hebrew, and more significative of the prophet's precise idea. 

* The interception of light, by means of an eclipse, happens very 
rarely ,• and then it is of so short a continuance, as not to be at all 
inconvenient: nay, it is attended with such circumstances, as render it 
rather useful than prejudicial. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 3^9 

of thy infinite understanding? Hast thou so regularly 
placed such a wonderful diversity of systems through the 
spaces of the universe ? Didst thou, without any pro- 
bationary essays, without any improving re-touches, 
speak them into the most consummate perfection ? Dost 
thou continually.superintend all their circumstances with 
a sagacity that never mistakes the minutest tittle of pro- 
priety ? And shall I be so unaccountably stupid as to 
question the justness of thy discernment^ in " choosing 
my inheritance, and fixing the bonds of my habitation?" 
not a single erratum in modelling the structure, deter- 
mining the distance,* and conducting the career of un- 
numbered worlds ! and shall my peevish humor presume 
to censure thy interposition with regard to the affairs of 
one inconsiderable creature, whose stature, in such a 
comparative view, is less than a span, and his present 
duration little more than a moment? 

! thou God, " in whose hand my breath is, and 
whose are all my ways," let such sentiments as now 
possess my thoughts be always lively on my heart! 
These shall compose my mind into a cheerful acquies- 
cence and a thankful submission, even when afflictions 
gall the sense, or disappointments break my schemes. 
Then shall I, like the grateful patriarch,! in all the 
changes of my condition, and even in the depths of dis- 
tress, erect an altar of adoring resignation, and inscribe 
it with the apostle's motto, " To God only wise." Then 
shouldst thou give me leave to be the carver of my own 
fortunes, I would humbly desire to relinquish the grant, 



* The sun in particular, (and lat this serve as a specimen of that 
most curious exactness with which the other eelestial bodies are 
constituted, and all their circumstances regulated,) the sun is formed 
of such a determinate magnitude, and placed at such a convenient 
distance, " as not to annoy, but only refresh us, and nourish the 
ground with its kindly warmth. If it was larger, it would set the 
earth on fire; if smaller, it would leave it frozen; if it was nearer us, 
we should be scorched to death; if farther from us, we should not 
be able to live for want of heat." — Stackhouse's Historf of the 
Bible. 

I See Gen. xii. 7, 8. 



320 CONTEMPLATIONS 



and recommit the disposal of myself to thy unerring 
beneficence ; fully persuaded that thy counsels, though 
contrary to my forward inclinations, or even afflictive 
to my ilesh, are incomparably more eligible than the 
blind impulse of my own will, how T ever soothing to 
animal nature. 

On a careless inspection, you perceive no accuracy or 
uniformity in the position of the heavenly bodies. They 
appear like an illustrious chaos, a promiscuous heap of 
shining globes ; neither ranked in order, nor moving by 
line. But what seems confusion is all regularity ; what 
carries a show of negligence, is really the result of the 
most masterly contrivance. You think, perhaps, they 
rove in their aerial flight ; but they rove by the nicest 
rule and without the least error. Their circuits, though 
seemingly devious ; their mazes, though intricate to our 
apprehensions ;* are marked out, not indeed with golden 
compasses, but by the infinitely more exact determina- 
tions of the all- wise Spirit. 

So, w T hat wears the appearance of calamity in the allot- 
ments appointed for the godly, has really the nature of 
a blessing. It issues from a fatherly love, and will ter- 
minate in the richest good. If Joseph is snatched from 
the embraces of an indulgent parent, and abandoned to 
slavery in a foreign land ; it is in order to save the holy 
family from perishing by famine, and to preserve "the 
seed, in whom all the nations of the earth should be 
blessed." If he fall into the deepest disgrace, it is on 
purpose that he may rise to the highest honors. Even 
the confinement of the prison, by the unsearchable work- 
ings of Providence, opens his way to the right hand of 
the throne itself. Let the most afflicted servant of Jesus 
wait the final upshot of things. He will then discover 
the apparent expediency of all those tribulations, which 
now, perhaps, he can hardly admit without reluctance, 

* Mazes intricate, 

Eccentric, intervolved ; yet regular 

Then most, when most irregular they seem. 

Milton. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 321 

or suffer without some struggles of dissatisfaction. Then 
the gushing tear and the heaving sigh will be turned 
into tides of gratitude and hymns of holy wonder. 

In the mean time, let no audacious railer presump- 
tuously impeach the divine procedure ; but, adoring 
where we cannot comprehend, let us expect the evolution 
of the mysterious plan. Then shall every eye perceive, 
t\i?t the seeming labyrinths of Providence were the most 
direct and compendious way to effect his general purposes 
of grace, and to bring about each one's particular happi- 
ness.* Then, also, shall it be clearly shown, in the pre- 
sence of applauding worlds, why virtue pined in want, 
while vice rioted in affluence ; why amiable innocence so 
often dragged the dungeon chain, while horrid guilt trailed 
.the robe of state. That day of universal audit, that day 
of everlasting retribution, will not only vindicate but 
magnify the whole management of Heaven. The august 
sessions shall close with this unanimous, this glorious 
acknowledgment: " Though clouds and darkness, im- 
penetrable by any human scrutiny, were sometimes round 
about the Supreme Conductor of things ; yet righteous- 
ness and judgment were the constant habitation of his seat,\ 
the invariable standard of all his administrations." Thus 
(if I may illustrate the grandest truths by inferior occur- 
rences) while we view the arras on the side of least dis- 
tinction, it is void of any elegant fancy, without any 
nice strokes of art, nothing but a confused jumble of 
incoherent threads. No sooner is the piece beheld in 
its proper aspect, but the suspected rudeness vanishes, 
and the most curious arrangement takes place. We are 
charmed with designs of the finest taste, and figures of 
the most graceful form : all is shaped with symmetry $ all 
is clad in beauty. 

* The moral world, 

Which, though to us it seems embroil'd, moves on 

In higher order ; fitted and impellM 

By wisdom's finest hand, and issuing all 

In general good. Thomson's Winteb. 

f Psal. xcvii 2. 



322 CONTEMPLATIONS 

The goodness of God is most eminently displayed in 
the skies. Could we take an understanding survey of 
whatever is formed by the Divine Architect, throughout 
the whole extent of material things, our minds would 
be transported with their excellencies, and our tongues 
echo back that great encomium, They are " good, very 
good:"* most beautifulj in themselves; contrived by 
unerring wisdom, and executed with inimitable skill : 
most useful in their functions ; exactly fitting the places 
they fill, and completely answering the purposes for 
which they were intended ! All the parts of the inani- 
mate creation proclaim, both by their intrinsic and 
relative excellencies, the all-diffusive beneficence of 
their Maker. 

How much more wonderful are the displays of divine . 
indulgence in the worlds of life ! Because dead matter 
is incapable of delight, therefore the gracious Creator 
has raised innumerable ranks of perceptive existence ; 
such as are qualified to taste his bounty, and enjoy each 
a happiness suited to its peculiar state. With this view,, 
he furnished the regions of inferior nature with an order 
and a series of sensitive beings. The waters teem with 
shoals of finny inhabitants : the dry land swarms with 
animals of every order : the dwellings of the firmament 
are occupied by multitudes of winged people : not so 
much as a green leaf philosophers say, but lodges and 
accommodates its puny animalculse tenants.^ And where- 

* Gen. i. 31. 

\ This KaXoKayaOta of the universe, and all its parts, has been very 
highly and very justly extolled by the ancient inquirers into nature ; 
and was, indeed, an illustrious scene, spread before the sages of the 
heathen world, wherein to contemplate the goodness and the glories 
of the Supreme Being. It was nobly said by a Pagan philosopher 

On this occasion : Et? epaira jji£raP\riGrivai tov Qeov fxsXXoura Seixiovysiv — 
that God, when he undertook the work of creation, transformed himself 
into love. But he need not transform himself into this amiable prin- 
ciple; "God is love," as was much more nobly said by one, whom 
that philosopher would have termed a barbarian. — 1 John, iv. 6. 

$ A very celebrated poet, in a beautiful paragraph on this subject, 
informs his readers, that all nature swarms with life. In subter- 
ranean cells, the earth heaves with vital motion : even the hard stone, 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 323 

fore this diversity, this profusion of living creatures, flying 
the air, treading the ground, and gliding through the 
paths of the sea ? For this most glorious reason, — that 
the eternal Sovereign may exercise his superabundant 
goodness ; that his table may be furnished with millions 
and millions of guests ; that he may fill every hour, 
every moment, their mouths with food, or their hearts 
with gladness. 

But what a small theatre are three or four elements 
for the operations of Jehovah's bounty ! His magnificent 
liberality scorns such scanty limits. If you ask, where- 
fore has he created all worlds, and replenished them with 
an unknown multiplicity of beings, rising one above 
another in an endless gradation of still richer endow- 
ments and still nobler capacities ? The answer is, — for 
the manifestation of his own glory, and especially for the 
communication of his inexhaustible beneficence.* The 

in the very inmost recesses of its impenetrable citadel, holds multi- 
tudes of animated inhabitants. The pulp of mellow fruit, and all 
the productions of the orchard, feed the invisible nations. Each 
liquid, whether of acid taste or milder relish, abounds with various 
forms of sensitive existence. Nor are the pure stream, or transparent 
air, without their colonies of unseen people. Ir vhich constitution 
of things, we have a wonderful instance, not only of the divine 
goodness to those minute beings, in giving them a capacity for 
animal gratifications, but of his tender care for mankind in making 
them imperceptible to our senses. 

These, conceal'd 

By the kind art of forming Heav'n escape, 

The grosser eye of man ; for, if the worlds 

In worlds enclosed should on his senses burst, 

From cates ambrosial and the nectar'd bowl 

He'd turn abhorrent ; and in dead of night, 

When silence sleeps o"er all, be stunn'd with noise. 

Thomson's Summer. 
* A sacred writer, considering this delightful subject, and con- 
fining his observation within the narrow limits of his own country, 
cries out, with a mixture of amazement and gratitude, How great is 
his goodness, and how great is his beauty J Who then can forbear 
being lost in wonder, and transported with delight, when he extends 
his survey to those infinitely more copious communications of divine 
bounty, which, like salutary and refreshing streams, run through all 
worlds, and make, not only the little valleys of a single kingdom, but 
the immensity of creation, laugh and sing? — Zech. ix. 17. 



324 CONTEMPLATIONS 



great Creator could propose no advantage to himself; 
his bliss is incapable of any addition. " Before the 
mountains were brought forth, or ever the earth and the 
world were made," he was supremely happy in his own 
independent and all-sufficient self. His grand design, 
therefore, in erecting so many stately fabrics, and 
peopling them with so many tribes of inhabitants, was 
to transfuse his exuberant kindness, and impart felicity 
in all its forms. Ten thousand worlds, stocked with ten 
thousand times ten thousand ranks of sensitive and 
intelligent existence, are so many spacious gardens, 
vhich, with rivers of communicated joy, this ever-flow- 
ing fountain waters continually. 

Boundless, and (which raises our idea of this divine 
principle to the very highest degree of perfection) disin- 
terested* munificence ! How inexpressibly amiable is the 
blessed God, considered in this charming light! Is it 
possible to conceive any excellence so adorable and 
lovely, as infinite benevolence, guided by unerring 
wisdom, and exerting almighty power, on purpose to 
make a whole universe happy ! my soul, what an 
irresistible attractive is here ! What a most worthy 
object for thy most fervent affection ! Shall now every 
glittering toy become a rival to this transcendently 
beneficent Being, and rob him of thy heart ? No. Let 
his all-creating arm teach thee to trust in the fulness of 
his sufficiency ; let his all-superintending eye incline 
thee to acquiesce in the dispensations of his providence ; 
and let his bounty, so freely vouchsafed, so amply 
diffused, induce thee to love him with all the ardor of a 
grateful and admiring soul ; induce thee to serve him, 
not with a joyless awe, or slavish dread, but with 
unfeigned alacrity, and a delightful complacency. 

If the goodness of God is so admirably seen in the 

* In this sense, There is none good but one, that is God: none 
universally and essentially good: none, whose gocdness extends 
itself in an infinite vimtty of blessings to every capable object; or, 
who always dispenses his favors, from the sole principal of free and 
disinterested benevolence. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 325 

works of nature, and the favors of providence ; with 
what a noble superiority does it even triumph, in the 
mystery of redemption!* Redemption is the brightest 
mirror, in which to contemplate this most lovely attri- 
bute of the Deity. Other gifts are only as mites from the 
divine treasury ; but redemption opens, I had almost 
said exhausts, all the stores of indulgence and grace. 
Herein, " God commandeth his love :"f not only mani- 
fests, but sets it off, as it were, with every bright and 
grand embellishment ; manifests it in so stupendous a 
manner, that it is beyond parallel, beyond thought, 
" above all blessing and praise." Was he not thy Son, 
everlasting God, thy only Son ; the son of thy bosom 
from eternal ages ; the highest object of thy complacen- 
tial delight ? Was not thy love to this adorable Son 
incomparably greater than the tenderest affection of any, 
or the united affections of all, mortal parents ? Was not 
the blessed Jesus more illustrious in excellency than all 
angels ; more exalted in dignity than all heavens ? 
Yet didst thou resign him for poor mortals ; for vile 
sinners ! Couldst thou see him descend from the 
royal throne, and take up his abode in the sordid 
stable? See him forego the homage of the seraphim, 
and stand exposed to the reproachful indignities of an 
insolent rabble ? See him arraigned at the bar, and 
sentenced to death ; numbered with malefactors, and 

* In this and in other parts of the Contemplations, the reader will 
observe, that the attributes of the Deity are represented as shining 
with more distinguished lustre in the wonders of redemption, than in 
the works of creation. If such remarks should seem to be unpre- 
cedented, or to stand in need of a vindication, permit me to subjoin 
the sentiments of a great critic, equally versed in both those sublime 
theories. "In a perfect orator," he says, "Tully requires some skill 
in the nature of heavenly bodies ; because his mind will become 
more extensive and unconfined; and, when he descends to treat of 
human affairs, he will both think and write in a more exalted and 
magnificent manner. For the same reason, that excellent master 
would have recommended the study of those great and glorious mys- 
teries, which revelation has discovered to us ; to which the noblest 
parts of this system of the world are as much inferior, as the creature 
is less excellent than the Creator.''- — Spect. vol. viii. No. 633. 

f Rom. v. 8. 

28 



326 CONTEMPLATIONS 



nailed to the gibbet ; bathed in his own innocent blood, 
and pouring out his soul in agonies of sorrow ? Could 
the Father, the Father himself \ with unknown philan- 
thropy,* say, H It shall, it shall be so ! My pity to re- 
bellious man pleads, and prevails. Awake, therefore, 
sword,\ edged with divine wrath. Awake, and be 
sheathed in that immaculate breast ; pierce that deaidy 
beloved heart. I am content, that my Son endure the 
sharpness of death, rather than sinful mortals perish for 
ever." Incomprehensible love ! May it henceforward 
be the favorite subject of my meditation ; more delight- 
ful to my musing mind than applause to the ambitious 
ear ! May it be the darling theme of my discourse ; 
sweeter to my tongue than the droppings of the honey- 
comb to my taste! May it be my choicest comfort 
through all the changes of life ; and my reviving cordial, 
even in the last extremities of dissolution itself! 

A prophet, contemplating with a distant survey this 
unexampled instance of Almighty love, is rapt into a 
transport of devotion. At a loss for proper acknowledg- 
ments, he calls upon the whole universe to aid his 
laboring breast, and supply his lack of praise. Sing 
melodiously , ye vaulted heavens ; exult, and even leap for 
gladness , thou cumbrous earth; ye mountains, break your 
long silence, and burst into peals of loudest acclamation ;J 
for the Lord, by this precious gift, and this great sal- 
vation, hath comforted his people. A sacred historian 

* Philanthropy, that is, loving-kindness to man. 

f Zech. xiii. 7. 

i lsa. xlix. 13. — I have not adhered to our common translation, but 
endeavored to preserve, somewhat more faithfully, the noble pathos 
and inimitable energy of the sacred original. The love of God, 
manifested in a divine and dying Saviour, is a blessing of such 
inconceivable richness, as must render all acknowledgments flat, 
and all encomiums languid. Yet, I think, the most poetical and 
most emphatical celebration of that unspeakable instance of good- 
ness is contained in this rapturous exclamation of the prophet, 
which intimates, with a wonderful majesty of sentiment, that even 
the whole compass of the inanimate creation, could it be sensible of 
the benefit, and capable of delight, would express its gratitude in aL 
these demonstrations of the most lively and exuberant joy.. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 327 



hath left it upon record, that, at the first exhibition of 
this ravishing scene, there was with the angel, who 
brought the blessed tidings, a multitude of the heavenly 
host, praising God, and making the concave of the skies 
resound with their hallelujahs. At the dawn of the Sun 
of Righteousness, when he was beginning to rise with 
healing in his wings, the morning stars sang together, 
and all the sons of God shouted for joy. And shall man, 
whom this gracious dispensation principally respects ; 
shall man, who is the centre of all these gladdening rays ; 
shall he have no heart to adore, no anthem to celebrate, 
this 

Love without end, and without measure grace. — Milton. 

How pure is the state of the sky, and how clear its 
aspect! clearer than the limpid ' stream ; purer than the 
transparent crystal ; and more curiously fine than the 
polished mirror. That stately ceiling, fretted with gold, 
and stretched to an extent of many millions of leagues, 
is not disfigured with a single flaw. That azure canopy, 
embroidered with stars, and spacious enough to form a 
covering for unnumbered worlds, is without the least 
spot or wrinkle. Yet this, even this, will scarce yield 
us so much as a faint representation of the divine purity. 
God is a God of matchless and transcendent excellency ; 
his ways are uprightness itself; his counsels and words 
are the very sanctity of wisdom and of truth. The laws 
which he has given to universal nature, are exquisitely 
contrived, and beyond all possibility of improvement. 
The precepts which he has appointed for the human race, 
are a complete summary of all that is honorable in itself, 
and perfective of the rational mind. Not the least over- 
sight, in planning a series of events for air futurity ; not 
the least mal-administration in managing the affairs of 
every age since time began, and of every nation under 
the whole heavens. Pardon these disparaging expres- 
sions. A negative perfection is far, far beneath thy dig- 
nity, thou most Highest.* In all these instances, in 

* thou most Highest. — This expression occurs more than once 
in the Psaims used by the established church. It is I think, one of 



328 CONTEMPLATIONS 



all thy acts, and all thy attributes, thou art not only holy, 
but glorious in holiness. 

So inconceivably holy is the Lord God of Hosts, that 
he sees defilement even in the brightness of the firmament ; 
the living sapphire of the heavens, before Ids majesty, 
loses its lustre ; yea, the stars (though the most pure and 
resplendent part of the heavens) are not pure in his sight. 
How much less man, who, in his fallen and depraved 
state, is but as tiworm that crawls in the corrupted car- 
case ; and the son of man, who, by reason of his manifold 
actual impurities, is too justly compared to an insect, 
that wallows amidst stench and putrefaction?* Is there 

those beauties, which, because often exhibited, generally escape our 
notice. It is a superlative, formed on a superlative ; and, though not 
strictly conformable to grammatical rules, is nobly superior to them 
all. The language seems to be sensible of its own deficiency, when 
the incomprehensible Jehovah is addressed or celebrated : oppressed, 
as it were, with the glories of the subject, it labors after a more 
emphatical manner of diction than the ordinary forms of speech 
afford. It is, if I rightly judge, one of those daring and happy pecu- 
liarities of a masterly genius, which Mr. Pope so finely describes, 
and, while he describes, exemplifies: 

Great wits sometimes may gloriously offend, 
And rise to faults true critics dare not mend ; 
From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, 
And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art. 

Essay on Criticism. 

St. PauVs — eXaxioTToepog -navroiv twv ayuov — is a beautiful passage of 
the like nature ; which our translators have very properly rendered, 
less than the least of all saints. His ttdXXw (xaWov Kpeiaaov is another 
instance of the same kind. But here the English version fails. Far 
better is extremely flaccid compared with the nervous original ; and I 
greatly question, whether it is possible to translate the sentence 
with equal conciseness, and with equal spirit. — See Eph. iii. 8. — 
Phil i. 23. 

* Job, xxv. 5, 6. — I submit it to the judgment of the learned, 
whether this is not the true meaning of the text. It may not, 
perhaps, recommend itself to the squeamishly nice critic, or to those 
persons who dream of, I know not what, dignity in our fallen nature. 
But it seems, in preference to every other interpretation, suitable to 
the sacred context; and is far from being injurious to the character 
of that apostate race, which is " altogether become abominable," and 
"is as an unclean thing.' , On this supposition, there is not only an 
apparent but a very striking contrast, between the purity of God and 
the pollution of man ; the purity of the most high God, which out- 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 329 

not then abundant cause for the most irreproachable and 
eminent of mankind to renounce all arrogant pretensions, 
to lay aside every assuming air, to take nothing but 
shame and confusion to themselves ? A holy prophet, 
and a holy prince, felt such humbling impressions, from 
a glimpse of the uncreated purity. I abhor myself in 
dust and ashes * was the declaration of the one: lam a man 
of unclean lips,f the confession of the other. Should not 
this teach us all to adore the divine mercies, for that 
precious purifying fountain^ which was foretold from 
the foundation of the world, but was opened at that 
awful juncture, when knotty whips tore the flesh, when 
ragged thorns mangled the temples, when sharpened 
nails cut fresh sluices for the crimson current, when the 
gash of the spear completed the dreadful work, and 
forthwith flowed there, from the wounded heart, * blood 
and water ? 

Especially, since God himself saw no blemish in his 
dear Son. He looketh to the moon, and it shineth not ; 
yet his all-penetrating and jealous eye discerned nothing 
amiss, nothing defective, in our glorious Redeemer. 
Nothing amiss ? He bore this most illustrious testimony 
concerning his holy child Jesus : " In him I am pleased ; 
I am well pleased ; I acquiesce, with entire complacency, 
and with the highest delight, in his person, his under- 

shines the moon and eclipses the stars ; the pollution of degenerate 
man, which, exclusive of a Saviour, would render him as loathsome 
to the all-seeing eye, as the vilest vermin are in ours. Without 
assigning this sense to the passage, I cannot discern the force of the 
antithesis, nor indeed the propriety of the sentiment. Worms, in 
the general, give us an idea of meanness and infirmity, not of defile- 
ment and impurity ,• unless they are insects, hatched amidst putre- 
faction, and considered in such noisome circumstances. The two 
words of the original, rVDl and ntfVn* are evidently used in this 
signification by Moses and Isaiah : by the former, to denote the 
vermin which devoured the putrefied manna; by the latter, to express 
the reptiles which swarm in the body that sees corruption. — Exod.xvi. 
— lsa. xiv. 11. 

* Job, xlii. 6. f lsa. vi. 5. 

t In that day there shall be a fountain opened to the house of 
David, and to the inhabitants of Jerusalem, for sin and for unclean* 
ness. — Zech. xiii. 1 . 

28* 



330 CONTEMPLATIONS 

taking, and the whole execution of his office." How 
should this thought enliven our hopes, while the other 
mortifies our pride ! Should not our hearts spring within 
us, and even leap for joy, at the repeated assurance 
given us by revelation, that such a divinely excellent 
person is our Mediator ? What apparent reason has 
eveiy believer to adopt the blessed Virgin's exclama- 
tion ! u My soul doth magnify the Lord for his transcen- 
dent mercy ; and my spirit rejoices, not in wide-extended 
harvests, waving over my fertile glebe,* not in armies 
vanquished, and leaving the peculiar treasure of nations 
for my spoil,* but in an infinitely richer, nobler blessing, 
even in God my Saviour :" that a person so sublime and 
perfect has vouchsafed to become my surely; to give 
himself for my ransom, in the world below > and act as 
my advocate in the royal presence above ; yea, to make 
my recovery the reward of his sufferings ; my final 
felicity the honor of his mediatorial kingdom ! 

When an innumerable multitude of bodies,! many of 
them more than a hundred thousand miles in diameter, J 
are all set in motion ; when the orbits, in which they 
perform their periodica] revolutions, are extended at the 
rate of several hundreds of millions ; when each has a 
distinct and separate sphere for finishing his vast circuit ; 
when no one knows what it is to be cramped, but each 
most freely expatiates in his unbounded career ; when 
every one is placed at such an immense remove from 
each other, that they appear to their respective inhabi- 
tants only as so many spots of light ; how r astonishing 

* The inspired penman, from these two occasions of distinguished 
joy, sets forth the incomparably greater delight which arises from 
the gift of a Saviour, and the blessing of redemption. — Isa. ix., verse 
3, compared with verse 6. 

-j- This refers not only to the planets which pass and repass about 
our sun, but also to the other planetary worlds, which are supposed 
to attend the several fixed stars. 

t The diameter of Jupiter is calculated at 130,650 miles, while his 
orbit is reckoned to consist of 895,134,000 ; which computation, 
according to the maxims of astronomy, and the laws of proportion, 
may, as is taken for granted in the Contemr lations, be applied to 
other planets revolving round other nuns. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 331 

must be the expanse, which yields room for all those 
mighty globes, and their widely-diffused operations! 
To what prodigious lengths did the Almighty Builder 
stretch his line, when he marked out the stupendous 
platform ! I wonder at such an immeasurable extent ; 
my very thoughts are lost in this abyss of space ; but, 
be it known to mortals, be it never forgot by sinner's, 
that, in all its most surprising amplitude, it is small, it is 
scanty, compared with the bounty and the mercy of its 
Maker. 

His bounty is absolutely without limits, * and without 
end. The most lavish generosity cannot exhaust or even 
diminish his munificence. O ! all ye tribes of men ; or 
rather, all ye classes of intelligent creatures ; ye are not 
straitened in the liberality of your ever-blessed Creator ; 
be not straitened in your own expectations. " Open your 
mouth wide, and he shall fill it," with copious and con- 
tinual draughts from the cup of joy. Your God, on 
whom is your whole dependence, is more than able, is 
more than willing, to " supply all your need according 
to his riches in glory." When the Lord Jehovah is the 
giver, and his gracef the gift ; let your wishes be 
unbounded, and your cravings insatiable. All that 
created beings can possibly covet, is but a very small 
pittance of that unknown happiness, which the everlast- 

* By bounty, I mean, not the actual exercise, or the sensible 
effects of this excellency in the Deity: these are, and always must 
be, through the immense perfection of the attribute, and the neces- 
sary scantiness of the recipient, bounded; but I would be under- 
stood as speaking of the divine power, and the divine will, to exert 
divine beneficence. These can have no real, no imaginable limits. 
These, after a profusion of blessings, distributed to unnumbered 
worlds, continued through unnumbered ages, must still have more 
to bestow, forever have more to bestow, infinitely more to bestow, 
than it is possible for creation itself to receive. 

f 2 Cor. ix. 8. — God is able to make all grace abound towards you, 
that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to 
every good work. How beautiful and emphatical is this description 1 
Inferior to nothing, but that extent of ability, and those riches of 
liberality, which it so eloquently celebrates. Does it not exhaust all 
the powers of language, while it attempts to give us a specimen of 
the munificence of the Lord 1 



332 CONTEMPLATIONS 

irig Benefactor is ready to bestow. Suppose every charit- 
able disposition which warms the hearts of the human 
race, added to those more enlarged affections which glow 
in heavenly bosoms ; what were they all, even in their 
highest exercise, compared with the benignity of the 
Divine Nature? Bless me, then, thou Eternal Source 
of love ; bless all that reverence thy holy name, accord- 
ing to thy own most profuse goodness ; whose great 
prerogative it is, to disdain all measure. ! bless us, 
in proportion to that grace, the richness of which (unut- 
terable by the tongues of men, and of angels) was once 
spoken in the groans, and written in the w T ounds, of thy 
expiring Son ! 

Spacious indeed are these heavens ! Where do they 
begin? Where do they end? What is their extent? 
Can angels answer my question ? Have angels travelled 
the vast circuit ? Can angels measure the bounds of 
space ? No ; 'tis boundless, 'tis unknown, 'tis amazing 
all. How charming, then, to reflect, that the mercy of 
God is " greater than the heavens ;" is more extensive 
than the dimensions of the sky. Transporting reflection! 
Let me indulge thee once more.* Let me think over 
the delightful displays of this lovely attribute ; and, 
while I admire the trophies of forgiving goodness, add 
one to the number. With what amiable and affecting 
colors is this represented in the parable of the prodigal ! 
What could induce that foolish youth to forsake his 
father's house ? Had he not been tenderly cherished by 
the good parent, and loaded with benefits from his 
indulgent h?nd ? Were not the restraints of parental 

* Once more, refers to page 114, of Reflections on a Flower Garden. 
The following pages, to the 337th, exhibit a digressive view of the 
divine mercy. I thought it proper to apprise my reader of this ex- 
cursion: though, I hope, it will be needless to offer an apology, for 
enlarging upon a theme incomparably joyous. Who can complain 
of tediousness while I speak consolation to distressed, and recovery 
to ruined creatures ] The divine mercy is the sole fountain of all 
our present and future blessings. In conformity to this benign attri- 
bute, human hopes arise, and human felicity flows. Who, therefore, 
can be weary of viewing and reviewing, when the lengths and 
breadths of forgiving grace are the ravishing prospect 1 



ON THE STARRS HEAVENS. 333 

government an easy yoke ; or rather, a preservative from 
ruin ?■ Notwithstanding every endearing obligation, he 
revolts from his duty, and launches into such scandalous 
irregularities, as were dishonorable to his family, and 
destructive to himself. When necessity, not choice, but 
sharp necessity, drove him to a submissive return ; does 
the injured father stand aloof, or shut his doors? Quite 
the reverse. He espies him while he is yet a great way 
off, and the moment he beholds the profligate youth, he 
has compassion on him ; his bowels yearn ; they u sound 
like an harp," touched with notes divinely soft. He 
never once thinks of his ungracious departure and 
infamous debaucheries. Pity, parental pity, passes an 
act of oblivion ; and, in one instant, cancels a series of 
long-continued provocations. So strong are the work- 
ings of fatherly affection, that he is almost impatient to 
embrace the naked and destitute wretch. The son's 
pace is slow, he arose and came ; the father's is swift, he 
sprang forth (aged as he was) and ran. And is there a 
single frown in his brow, or one upbraiding word on his 
tongue ? Instead of loathing the sordid creature, or 
reproaching him for his odious excesses, he falls on his 
neck, clasps him in his arms, and hugs him to his bosom. 
Instead of disowning the riotous spendthrift, or rejecting 
him for his undutiful behavior, he receives and wel- 
comes him with kisses of delight ; he rejoices at his 
return from extravagance and vi£e, as he formerly 
rejoiced on the day of his nativity. When this com- 
panion of harlots opens his mouth, before he speaks, the 
father hears. He interrupts him in the midst of his 
intended speech ; the overflowings of his compassionate 
heart can brook no delay ; he seems to be uneasy him- 
self, till he has made the afflicted penitent glad with the 
assurance of his acceptance, and the choicest of his 
favors ; while the poor abashed offender seeks nothing 
more than not to be abhorred, he is thoroughly recon- 
ciled, and honored before the whole family; while he 
requests no other indulgence than only to be treated as 
the meanest servant, he is clothed with the best robe, he. 



334 CONTEMPLATIONS 



is feasted with the fatted calf he is caressed as the 

dearest of children. Was there ever so bright and 

. . . ^ 

winning a picture of the tenderest mercy, most freely 

vouchsafed, even to the most unworthy of creatures ? 

Yet thus j my soul ; and thus, my fellow-sinner : will the 

Lord God of everlasting compassions receive us ; if, 

sensible of our misery, and thirsting for salvation, we 

tarn to him through Jesus Christ. 

Where sin has abounded, says the proclamation from 

the court of heaven, grace doth much more abound. 

Manasseh was a monster of barbarity, for he caused his 

own children to pass through the tire, and filled Jerusa- 

salem with innocent blood. Manasseh was an adept in 

iniquity ; for he not only multiplied, to an extravagant 

degree, his own sacrilegious impieties, but he poisoned 

the principles, and perverted the manners of his subjects, 

making them to do worse than the most detestable of the 

heathen idolaters.* Yet, through this superabundant grace, 

he is humbled, he is reformed, and becomes a child of 

forgiving love, an heir of immortal glory. Behold that 

bitter and bloody persecutor Saul ; when, breathing out 

threatenings,f and bent upon slaughter, he worried the 

lambs, and put to death the disciples of Jesus. Who, 

* See 2 Chron. xxxiii. 

j" Acts ix. 1. — SauAoj en Sfxirveayv cnrsiXrjg kcu (povov, Saul yet breathing 

out threatening and slaughter. What a representation is here of a 
mind, mad with rage, aad abandoned to the fiercest extremes of bar 
barity ! I scarce know whether I am more shocked at the persecu 
tor's savage disposition, or charmed with the evangelist's lively- 
description. The adverb en seems referable to chap. viii. ver. 2, 
and has, in this connection, a peculiar force. The havoc he had 
committed, the inoffensive families he had already ruined, were not 
sufficient to assuage his vengeful spirit. They were only a taste; 
which, instead of glutting the bloodhound, made him more closely 
pursue the track, and more eagerly pant for destruction. He is still 
athirstfor violence and murder; so eager and insatiable is his thirst, 
that he even breathes out threatening and slaughter. His words are 
spears and arrows, and his tongue a sharp sword. 'Tis as natural 
for him to menace the Christians, as to breathe the air. Nay, they 
bleed every hour, eveiy moment, in the purposes of his rancorous 
heart. It is only owing to want of power, that every syllable he 
utters, every breath he draws, does not deal about deaths, and cause 
some of the innocent disciples to fall. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 335 

upon the principles of human judgment, would not have 
pronounced him a vessel of wrath destined to unavoid- 
able damnation ; nay, would not have been ready to 
conclude, that, if there were heavier chains and a deeper 
dungeon in the world of woe, they must surely be 
reserved for such an implacable enemy of true godli- 
ness? Yet (admire and adore the inexhaustible treasures 
of grace !) this Saul is admitted into the goodly fellow- 
ship of the prophets, is numbered with the noble army 
of martyrs, and makes a distinguished figure among the 
glorious company of the apostles. The Corinthians were 
flagitious even to a proverb. Some of them wallowed 
in such abominable vices, and habituated themselves to 
such outrageous acts of injustice, as were a reproach to 
human nature. Yet, even these sons of violence, and 
slaves of sensuality, u were washed, were sanctified, 
were justified :"* washed, in the precious blood of a 
dying Redeemer ; sanctified, by the powerful operations 
of his blessed Spirit ; justified, through the infinitely 
tender mercies of a gracious God. Those who were 
once the burden of the earth, are now the joy of heaven, 
and the delight of angels. 

There is another instance in Scripture, which most 
loudly publishes that sweetest of the divine names, 
the Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suf 
fering, and abundant in goodness and truth; keeping 
mercy for thousands ; forgiving iniquity, transgression, 
and sin :f an instance of this, which exceeds all the for- 
mer ; which exceeds whatever can be imagined ; which 
if I was to forget, the very stones might cry but, and 
sound it in my ears. I mean the case of those sinners 
who murdered the Prince of Peace, and Lord of Glory. 
The men could scarce have the shadow of an excuse for 
their crime ; hardly a circumstance to extenuate their 
guilt. They were well acquainted with his exemplary 
conversation ; they had often heard of his heavenly doc- 
trines ; they were almost daily spectators of his un- 
equalled miracles. They therefore had all possible reason 
* 1 Cor. vi. 2, 10, 11. f Exod. xxxiv. 6, 7. 



336 CONTEMPLATIONS 

to honor him as the most illustrious of Beings ; and to 
receive his Gospel, as the most inestimable of blessings, 
Yet notwithstanding all these engaging motives to love 
him, even above their own lives ; they seize his person, 
asperse his character, drag him before a heathen tribu- 
nal and extort a sentence of death against innocence and 
holiness itself. Never was the vilest slave so contumeli- 
ously abused, nor the most execrable malefactor so barbar- 
ously executed. The sun was confounded at the shocking 
scene ; and one cannot but wonder, how the avenging 
lightnings could withhold their flashes. The earth trem- 
bled at the horrid deed ; and why, why did it not cleave 
asunder, and open a passage for such blood-thirsty mis- 
creants into the nethermost hell ? Shall these ever hope 
to obtain forgiveness from the righteous Judge ? Shall 
not these be consigned over to inexorable w T rath, and 
the severest torments ? the miraculous effects of 
divine grace ! the triumphant goodness of God our 
Saviour ! Many, even of these impious wretches, at the 
descent of the Holy Ghost, w T ere convinced of their 
miserable state ; w r ere wounded with penitential remorse ; 
fled to the sanctuary of the cross ; had their pardon 
ratified by the baptismal seal ; and, continuing in the 
apostle's doctrine, were made partakers of the kingdom 
of heaven ; where they now shine, as so many everlast- 
ing monuments of most distinguished mercy ; and receive 
beatitude past utterance, from that very Redeemer, 
whom once " with wicked hands they crucified and 
slew." 

Well might the prophet cry out, with a pleasing 
amazement ; " who is a God like unto thee, that pardon- 
eth iniquity, and passeth by transgression ?"* Let all 
flesh know assuredly ; let all flesh rejoice greatly ; that 
with the Lord there is such mercy , and with his Christ 
such plentiful redemption. And ! for the voice of an 
arch-angel, to circulate the glad tidings through the uni- 
verse ; that the American savage, as well as the European 
sage, may learn the exceeding riches of grace in Christ ; 

* Mic. vii. 18. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 337 

through whose infinitely satisfying propitiation, all man- 
ner of sin, barbarity, and blasphemy, are freely forgiven 
unto men. 

What a grand and majestic dome is the sky! Where 
are the pillars which support the stately concave ? What 
art, most exactly true, balances the pressure ? What 
props, of insuperable strength, sustain the weight ? 
How is that immeasurable arch upheld , unshaken and 
unimpaired ? while so many generations of busy mortals, 
have sunk and disappeared, as bubbles upon the stream ? 
If those stars are of such an amazing bulk, how are they 
also fastened in their lofty situation ? By what miracle 
in mechanics are so many thousands of ponderous orbs 
kept from falling upon our heads ; kept from dashing, 
both the world to pieces, and its inhabitants to death ? 
Are they hung in golden or adamantine chains? Rest 
they their enormous load on rocks of marble, or columns 
of brass ? No ; they are pendulous in fluid aether ; yet are 
more immovably fixed , than if the everlasting moun- 
tains lent their forests for an axletree, or their ridges for 
a basis. The Almighty architect stretches out the north, 
and its whole starry train, over the empty place. He hangs 
the earth, and all the setherial globes upon nothing ;* yet 
are their foundations laid so sure, that they can " never 
be moved at any time." 

No unfit representation, to the sincere Christian, of his 
final perseverance ;f such as points out the cause w r hich 

* Job, xxvi. 7. 

f With regard to the final perseverance of the true believer, I am 
sensible this point is not a little controverted. The sentiments 
which follow are my steadfast belief. It is by no means proper, in a 
work of this nature, to enter upon a discussion of the subject; 
neither have I room, so much as to hint, what might be urged for 
its support. Let my reader observe, that I am far from delivering 
it, as essential to Christianity, or necessary to salvation. Millions, 
of the very contrary conviction, are, I doubt not, high in the favor 
of God; and in a growing meetness for his heavenly kingdom. As 
I blame none for rejecting, none, I hope, will be offended with me for 
espousing, this particular doctrine. To be of different opinions, at 
least in some inferior instances, seems an unavoidable consequence 
of our present state ; where ignorance, in part, cleaves to the wisest 

29 



338 CONTEMPLATIONS 

effects i*, and constitutes the pledge which ascertains it. 
His nature is all enfeebled. lie is not able, of himself, 
to think a good thought. He has no visible safeguard, 
nor any sufficiency of his own ; and yet whole legions 
of formidable enemies are in a confederacy to compass 
his ruin. The world lays unnumbered snares for his 
feet ; the devil is incessantly urging the siege, by a mul- 
titude of fiery darts, or wily temptations ; the flesh, like 
a perfidious inmate, under color of friendship, and a 
specious pretence of pleasure, is always forward to 
betray his integrity. But, amidst all these threatening 

minds; and prejudice easily besets the most impartial judgments. 
This may turn to our common advantage, and afford room for the 
display and exercise of those healing virtues, moderation, meekness, 
and forbearance. Let me only be permitted to ask, whether this tenet 
does not evidently tend to establish the comfort of the Christian, and 
to magnify the fidelity of God cur Saviour 1 Whether, far from 
countenancing sloth, or encouraging remissness, to know that our 
labor shall not be in vain, is not the most prevailing inducement to 
abound in the work of the Lord? — 1 Cor. xv. 58. 

Is any one inclined to examine the reasons which made the 
author a proselyte to this persuasion 1 He may find them displayed 
in the memorial, delivered by several select and eminent divines of 
the Church of England, at the renowned Synod of Dor&t. (See Acta 
Synod. Dordrech. Par. II. pag. 246, of the Latin edition, published in 
a single quarto volume.) Those who have no opportunity of con- 
salting the memoirs of that venerable assembly, I would refer to the 
works of the indefatigable and very learned Turretin, or to those of 
the candid and elegant Witsius. — Turret. Tom. II. Q. xvi. Wits. 
CEcox. Lib. III. cap. xiii. 

The latest and fullest view of the point, which I ever remember 
to have met with in any of our English writers, is in the Lime street 
Lectures ; which are a defence of several most important doctrines 
of the Gospel, and contained in two octavo volumes; the united 
labors of nine modern divines, most of whom are well known to 
the world by their other evangelical and useful writings. In those 
lectures, the final perseverance of the saints is very particularly 
stared; and, to my apprehension, at least, most satisfactorily proved. 
The arguments usually urged against it, are impartially considered, 
and I cannot but think (with all due deference to the judgment of 
others) unanswerably confuted. 

And here (not to swell this note any farther) I shall only just hint, 
that the judicio'us Hooker (an authority, perhaps, as weighty and un- 
exceptionable as any that can well be produced) gives a solemn 
attestation to this tenet, in a short discourse on the Perpetuity of 
Faith, subjoined to his Ecclesiastical Polity. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 339 

circumstances of personal weakness and imminent dan- 
ger, an invisible aid is his defence. I will uphold thee, 
says the blessed God, with the right hand of my righteous- 
ness * Comfortable truth ! The arm, which fixes the 
stars in their orders, and guides the planets in their 
course, is stretched out to preserve the heirs of salvation. 
My sheep, adds the great Redeemer, are mine ; and they 
shall never perish, neither shall any pluck them out of my 
hand.f What words are these! And did they come 
from him, who hath all Dower on heaven and on earth? 
And were they spoke to the weakest of the flock ; to 
every unfeigned follower of the great Shepherd ? Then, 
Omnipotence itself, must be vanquished, before they can 
be destroyed, either by the seductions of fraud or the 
assaults of violence. 

If you ask, therefore, what security we have, of endur- 
ing to the end, and continuing faithful unto death ? The 
very same that establishes the heavens, and settles the 
ordinances of the universe. Can these be thrown into 
confusion ?J Then may the true believer draw back 
unto perdition. Can the sun be dislodged from his 
sphere, and rush lawlessly through the sky ? Then, and 
then only, can the faith of God's elect be finally over- 
thrown. || Be of good courage then, my soul ; rely on 
those divine succors, which are so solemnly stipulated, 
so faithfully promised. Though thy grace be languid as 
the glimmering spark ; though the overflowings of cor- 
ruption threaten it with total extinction ; yet, since the 
great Jehovah has undertaken to cherish the dim princi- 
ple, " many waters cannot quench it, nor all floods 
drown it." Nay, though it were feeble as the smoking 
fiax,^ goodness and faithfulness stand engaged to 

* Isa. xli. 10. f John, x. 28. 

* Jer. xxxi. 35, 36. || Tit. i. 2. 

§ The tenderness and faithfulness of God to his people are finely- 
pictured by the prophet Isaiah, chap. xlii. ver. 3. Which passage, 
because of its rich consolation, and uncommon beauty, is de- 
servedly adopted by St. Matthew, and ingrafted into the system of 
evangelical truths. He will not himself break, nor suffer to be broken 
by any other, the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax. Was it 



340 CONTEMPLATIONS 

augment the heat, to raise the fire, and feed the flame, 
till it beam forth a lamp of immortal glory in the 
heavens. 

As to the faithfulness of a covenanting God, this may- 
be emblematically seen in the stability of the heavenly 
bodies, and the perpetuity of their motions.* Those that 
prefixed or stationary continue unalterable in their grand 
elevations. No injurious shocks, no violence of con- 
flicting elements, are able to displace those everlasting 
hinges, on which dependent worlds revolve. Through 
the whole flight of time, they- recede not so much as a 
hair's breadth from the precise central point of their re- 
spective systems, while the erratic or planetary perform 
their prodigious stages without any intermission or the 
least embarrassment. How soon and how easily is the 
most finished piece of human machinery disconcerted ! 
But all the celestial movements are so nicely adjusted, 
all their operations so critically proportioned, and their 
mutual dependencies so strongly connected, that they 
prolong their beneficial courses throughout all ages ; 
while mighty cities are overwhelmed with ruin, and their 
very names lost in oblivion ; while vast empires are 
swept from their foundations, and leave not so much as 
a shadowy trace of their ancient magnificence ; while all 
terrestrial things are subject to vicissitude and fluctuating 
in uncertainty, these are permanent in their duration ; 

possible to have chosen two more delicate and expressive represen- 
tations 1 Could any image be more significant of a very infirm and 
enfeebled faith, than the flexile reed that bends before every wind, 
which, besides its natural weakness, is made abundantly weaker by 
being bruised, and so is ready to fall in pieces of itself] Or could 
any thing, with a more pathetical exactness, describe tfie extreme 
imbecility of the other principle of the divine life, love ? The state 
of the flax just beginning to burn is liable to be put out by the least 
blast ; more liable still is the wick of the lamp, when it is not so 
much as kindled into a glimmering flame, but only breathing smoke, 
and uncertain whether it shall take fire or no. Yet true faith and 
heavenly love, though subsisting amidst such pitiable infirmities, 
will not be abandoned by their great Author, shall not be extin- 
guished by any temptations, but be maintained, invigorated, and 
made finally triumphant. — Matt xii. 20. 
* Psal. cxix. 89, 90. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 341 

these are invariable in their functions : " not one faileth." 
Who doubts the constant succession of day and night, 
or the regular retu as of summer and winter? And 
why, O ! why, shall we doubt the veracity of God, or 
distrust the accomplishment of his holy word ? Can the 
ordinances of heaven depart ? then only can God forget 
to be gracious, or neglect the performance of his pro- 
mise. Nay, our Lord gives us yet a firmer ground of 
affiance. He affords us a surer bottom for our faith than 
the fundamental laws of the universe. Heaven and Earth, 
he says, shall pass away ; but my words shall not, in a 
single instance, or in one tittle of their import pass away. 
No ; his sacred word, whatever may obstruct it, whoever 
may oppose it, shall be fulfilled to the very uttermost. 

O powerful word ! how astonishing is its efficacy ! 
When this word was issued forth, a thousand worlds 
emerged out of nothing. Should the mighty orders be 
repeated, a thousand more would spring into existence. 
By this word, the vast system of created things is upheld 
in constant and immutable perfection. Should it give 
command, or cease to exert its energy, the universal 
frame would be dissolved, and all nature revert to her 
original chaos. And this very word is pledged for the 
safety, the comfort, the happiness of the godly. This 
inviolable, this almighty word, speaks in all the promises 
of the Gospel. How strangely infatuated are our souls, 
that w T e should value it so little ! What infidels are we 
in fact, that we should depend upon it no more ! Did it 
create whatever has a being, and shall it not work faith 
in our breasts ? Do unnumbered worlds owe their sup- 
port to this word, and shall it not be sufficient to buoy 
up our souls in troubles, or establish them in trials ? Is 
it the life_of the universe, and shall it be a dead letter to 
mankind ? 

If I wish to be heard, when I implore heavenly bless- 
ings, is not this privilege most clearly made over to my 
enjoyment in that well known text, " Ask, and it shall 
be given you?"* If I long for the Eternal Comforter to 
* Matt. vii. 7. 

29* 



342 CONTEMPLATIONS 

dwell in my heart, and sanctify ray nature, have I not 
an apparent title to this high prerogative conferred in that 
sweet assertive interrogation, " How much more shall 
your Heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those that 
ask him?"* If I earnestly rfbvet the inestimable trea- 
sures that are comprised in the great Immanuel's media- 
tion, can I have a firmer claim to the noble portion than 
is granted in that most precious Scripture, " Him that 
cometh to me I will in no wise cast out?"f What 
assurance of being interested in these unspeakable mer- 
cies would I desire ? What form of conveyance, what 
deed of settlement, were it left to my own option, should 
I choose ? Here is the word of a King, the King im- 
mortal and invisible, all whose declarations are truth 
itself. J If a monarch bestow immunities on a body of 
men, and confirm them by an authentic charter, no one 
controverts, no one questions their right to the royal 
favors. And why should we suspect the validity of those 
glorious grants, which are made by the everlasting 
Sovereign of nature, which he has also ratified by an 
oath, and sealed with the blood of his Son ? Corpora- 
tions may be disfranchised, and charters revoked. Even 
mountains may be removed, and stars drop from their 
spheres : but a tenure, founded on the divine promise, 
is inalienably secure, is lasting as eternity itself. 

We have endeavored to spell a syllable of the eternal 
name in the ancient manuscript of the sky. We have 
catch ed a glimpse of the Almighty's glory from the lustre 
of innumerable stars. But would we behold all his 
excellences portrayed in full perfection, and drawn to 
the very life, let us attentively consider the Redeemer. 
I observe there are some parts of the firmament in which 
the stars seem, as it were, to cluster ; they are sown 
thicker, they lie closer than usual, and strike the eye 

* Luke, xi. 13. f John, vi. 37. 

t If these fail, 

The pillar'd firmament is rottenness, 
And earth's base built on stubble. 

Milton's Comus. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 343 

with redoubled splendor ; like the jewels on a crown, 
they mingle their beams, and reflect an increase of bril- 
liancy on each other. Is there not such an assemblage, 
such a constellation of the divine honors, most amiably 
effulgent in the blessed JeSus ? 

Does not infinite wisdom shine with surpassing bright- 
ness in Christ ?* To the making of a world there was 
no obstacle ; but to the saving of man, there seemed to 
be unsurmountable bars. If the rebel is suffered to 
escape, where is the inflexible justice which denounces 
" death as the wages of sin ?" If the offender is 
thoroughly pardoned, where is the inviolable veracity 
which has solemnly declared, " The soul that sinneth 
shall die ?" These awful attributes are set in terrible 
array, and, like an impenetrable battalion, oppose the 
salvation of apostate mankind. Who can suggest a 
method to absolve the traitorous race, yet vindicate the 
honors of Almighty Sovereignty ? This is an intricacy, 
which the most exalted of finite intelligences are unable 
to clear. But behold the unsearchable secret revealed ! 
revealed in the wonderful redemption, accomplished by 
a dying Saviour! so plainly revealed, that he " he who 
runs may read," and even babes understand, what minds 
of the deepest penetration could not contrive. The Son 
of God, taking our nature, obeys the law, and undergoes 
death in our stead ; by this means the threatened curse 
is executed in all its rigor, and free grace is exercised 
in all its riches. Justice maintains her rights, and, with 
a steady hand, administers impartial vengeance ; while 
Mercy dispenses her pardons, and welcomes the re- 
pentant criminal into the tenderest embraces. Hereby 
the seemingly thwarting attributes are reconciled. The 
sinner is saved, not only in full consistence with the 
honor of the supreme perfections, but to the most illus- 
trious manifestation of them all. 

Where does the divine power* so signally exert itself 

* Christ, the wisdom of God, and the power of God. — 1 Cor. i. 24. 
To the intent that now, unto the principalities and powers in heavenly 
places, might be known by the church (by the amazing contrivance 



344 CONTEMPLATIONS 

as in the cross of Christ, and in the conquest of grace? 
Our Lord, in his lowest state of humiliation, gained a 
more glorious victory, than when, through the dividing 
sea and the waste howling wilderness, " he rode upon 
his chariots and horses of salvation." When his hands 
were rivetted with irons to the bloody tree, he disarmed 
death of its sting, and plucked the prey from the jaws 
of hell. Then, even then, while he w r as crucified in 
weakness , he vanquished the strong man, and subdued 
our most formidable enemies: even then he spoiled 
principalities, triumphed over the powers of darkness, 
and led captivity captive. Now he is exalted to his 
heavenly throne, with what a prevailing efficacy does 
his grace go forth, u conquering, and to conquer!" By 
this, the slaves of sin are rescued from their bondage, 
and restored to the liberty of righteousness. By this, 
depraved wretches, whose appetites were sensual, and 
their dispositions devilish, are not only renewed, but 
renewed after the image of God, and made partakers of 
a divine nature. Millions, millions of lost creatures are 
snatched, by the interposition of grace, like brands from 
the burning, and, translated into everlasting mansions, 
shine brighter than the stars, shine bright as the sun, in 
the kingdom of their Father. 

Would you then see an incomparably more bright 
display of the divine excellence than the unspotted fir- 
mament, the spangles of heaven, or the golden fountain 
of day exhibit ? Contemplate Jesus of Nazareth. He 
is the brightness of his Father's glory, and the express 
image of his person. In his immaculate nature, in his 
heavenly tempers, in his most holy life, the moral per- 
fections of the Deity are represented to the highest 
advantage.* Hark ! how Mercy, with her charming 
voice, speaks in all he utters ! See, how Benevolence 
pours her choicest stores in all he does ! Did ever Com- 

and accomplishment of its redemption) the deep, extensive, and 
(xoXvtoikiXos) greatly diversified wisdom of God. — Ejch. iii. 10. 

* In this sense, that saying of our Lord is eminently tru e, He that 
hath seen me, hath seen the Father. — John, xiv. 9. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 345 

•passion look so amiably soft as in those pitying tears, 
which swelled his eyes, and trickled down his cheeks, 
to bedew the rancor of his inveterate enemies ? Was it 
possible for Patience to assume a form so lovely as that 
sweetly-winning conduct, which bore the contradiction 
of sinners ? which entreated the obstinate to be recon- 
ciled ? besought the guilty not to die ? In other things 
we may find some scattered rays of Jehovah's glory ; but 
in Christ they are all collected and united. In Christ 
they beam forth with the strongest radiance, with the 
most delightful effulgence. Out of Sion, and in Sion's 
Great Redeemer, hath God appeared in perfect beauty. 

Search then, my soul, above all other pursuits, search 
the records of redeeming love. Let these be the princi- 
pal objects of thy study: here employ thyself with the 
most unwearied assiduity : in these are hid all the trea- 
sures of wisdom and knowledge :* such wisdom, as charms 
and astonishes the very angels, engages their closest 
attention, and fills them with the deepest adoration :f 



* Colos. ii. 3. — Not a mean degree, but a treasure ; not one trea- 
sure, but many ; not many only, bat all treasures, of true wisdom 
and saving knowledge, are in Christ and his glorious Gospel. The 
transcendent excellency of those treasures seems to be finely inti- 
mated in that other expression a-o><pv<poi, hid, (which may be inter- 
preted by the Hebrew O^iDftD, Job, iii. 21.) laid up, with the utmost 
care and the greatest safety: not left at all adventures, to be stumbled 
upon by every giddy wanderer, or to fall into the arms of the yawn- 
ing sluggard; but, like jewels of the brightest lustre, or riches of 
the highest value, kept in store to adorn and reward the diligent 
searcher. 

f This, I believe, is the import of the apostle's language, though 

it is not a literal translation of ei$ a erridvfiovaiv ayysXot irapaKvxpai. — 

1 Pet. i. 12. I never had such a lively apprehension of the beau- 
tiful signincancy of the last word, as when I have attended a dis- 
section of some part of the animal body. In order to discern the 
minutiae of the admirable frame, the latent wonders of art and 
mechanism, the eye is so sharpened, and its application so intensely 
bended, as gives a very just experimental comment on that expressive 
phrase, irapcucvxpai. With such earnest attention is the everlasting 
Gospel contemplated by the angelic orders ! How much more, if it 
were possible, does it deserve the devout and incessant considera- 
tion of human minds ? since by them it is not onl} to be speculated 
as a bright and ravishing display of the divine attributes, but tc be 



346 CONTEMPLATIONS 



such knowledge, as qualifies the possessor, if not for 
offices of dignity on earth, yet for the most honorable 
advancements in the kingdom of heaven : disunited 
from which knowledge, all application is but elaborate 
impertinence, and all science no better than pompous 
ignorance. These records contain the faultless model 
of duty, and the noblest motives to obedience. Nothing 
so powerful, to work a lively faith and a joyful hope, as 
an attentive consideration of our Lord's unutterable 
merits : nothing so sovereign, to antidote the pestilential 
influence of the world, and deliver our affections from a 
slavery to ignoble objects, as an habitual remembrance 
of his extreme agonies. The genuine, the ever- fruitful 
source of all morality, is the unfeigned love of Christ ; 
and the cross, the cross, is the appointed altar * from 
which we may fetch a coal to kindle this sacred fire.f 

Behold, therefore, the man, the matchless and stupen- 
dous man, whose practice was a pattern of the most ex- 
alted virtue, and his person the mirror of every divine 
perfection. Examine the memoirs of his heavenly 
temper and exemplary conversation : contemplate that 
choir of graces, which were associated in his mind, and 
shed the highest lustre on all his actions : familiarize to 
thy thoughts his instructive discourses, and enter into 
the very spirit of his refined doctrines ; that the graces 
may be transfused into thy breast, and the doctrines 
transcribed in thy life. Follow him to Calvary'' s horrid 
eminence, to Calvary'' s fatal catastrophe ; where in- 
nocence, dignity, and merit, were made perfect through 
sufferings ; each shining with all possible splendor 
through the tragical scene, somewhat like his own ra- 
diant bow, then glowr g with the greatest beauty, when 

applied to their fallen nature, as a most benign scheme of recovering 
grace; as the sure and only method of obtaining life and im- 
mortality. 

* And I, says our Lord, If I be lifted up from the earth, and ex- 
tended on the cross, will draw all men unto me : will give such a rich 
and transcendent display of my love, as shall constitute the most 
powerful and prevailing attractive of theirs, — John, xii. 32. 

-j- Alluding to Isaiah, vi. 6. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 347 



appearing on the darkest cloud. Be thy most con- 
stant attention fixed on that lovely and sorrowful spec- 
tacle. Behold the spotless victim, nailed to the tree, 
and stabbed to the heart: hear him pouring out prayers 
for his murderers, before he poured out his soul for 
transgressors : see the wounds that stream with forgive- 
ness, and bleed balm for a distempered world. ! see 
the justness of the Almighty, and his goodness; his 
mercy, and his vengeance ; every tremendous and gra- 
cious attribute manifested ; manifested with inexpressible 
glory, in that most ignominious, yet grandest of trans- 
actions. 

Since God is so inconceivably great, as these his 
marvellous w r orks declare ; 

Since the great Sov'reign sends ten thousand worlds 
To tell us, he resides above them all, 
In glory's unapproachable recess ;* 

how can we forbear hastening with Moses, bowing our- 
selves to the earth, and worshipping ? 

! Avhat an honorable, as well as advantageous em- 
ploy, is prayer ! — Advantageous : By prayer we cultivate 
that improving correspondence w T ith Jehovah, we carry 
on that gladdening intercourse with his Spirit, which 
must begin here, in order to be completed in eternity. 
Honorable : By prayer we have access to that mighty 
Potentate, w T hose sceptre sways universal nature, and 
whose rich regalia fill the skies with lustre. Prayer 
places us in his presence-chamber ; while " the blood 
of sprinkling " procures us a gracious audience. 

* For this quotation, and several valuable hints I acknowledge 
myself indebted to those beautiful and sublime poems, intituled 
Night Thoughts; of which I shall only say, that I receive fresh plea- 
sure, and richer improvement, from every renewed perusal. And 
I think I shall have reason to bless the indulgent Bestower of all 
wisdom for those instructive and animating compositions, even in 
my last moments ; than which, nothing can more emphatically speak 
their superior excellence, nor give a more solid satisfaction to their 
worthy author. Happy should I think myself, if these little sketches 
of contemplative devotion might be honored with the most inferior 
degree of the same success; might receive a testimony, not from 
:he voice of Fame, but from the dying lips of some edified Christian. 



348 CONTEMPLATIONS 

Shall I then blush to be found prostrate before the 
throne of grace ? Shall I be ashamed to have it known, 
that I offer up social supplications in the family, or 
am conscientious in observing my private retirement ? 
Rather, let me glory in this unspeakable privilege : let 
me reckon it the noblest posture, to fall low on my 
knees before his footstool ; and the highest honor, to 
enjoy communion with his most exalted majesty : in- 
comparably more noble, than to sit in person on the tri- 
umphal chariot, or to stand in effigy amidst the temple 
of worthies. 

Most inestimable, in such a view, is that promise, 
w T hich so often occurs in the prophetic writings, and 
is the crowning benefit of the new covenant, I will be 
thy God* Will this supremely excellent and Almighty 
Being vouchsafe to be my portion ? To settle upon a 
poor sinner, not the heritage of a country, not the posses- 
sion of the whole earth, but his own ever-blessed self*) 
May I, then, through his free condescending grace, and 
the unknown merits of his Son, look upon all these infi- 
nitely noble attributes as my treasure ? May I regard 
the wisdom, w T hich superintends such a multitude of 
worlds, as my guide ; the power, which produced, and 
preserves them in existence, as my guard ; the goodness, 
which, by an endless communication of favors, renders 
them all so many habitations of happiness, as my exceed- 
ing great reward 1 ? What a fund of felicity is included 
in such a blessing ! How often does -the Israelitish 
prince exult in the assurance, that this unutterable and 
boundless good is his own ! Interested in this, he bids 
defiance to every evil that can be dreaded ; and rests in 
certain expectation of every blessing that can be desired. 
The Lord is my light, and my salvation ; whom then shall 
I fear ? The Lord, with an air of exultation he repeats 
both his affiance and his challenge, is the strength of my 
ltf e > °f whom then shall I be afraid c l\ Nothing so 
effectual as this appropriating faith, to inspire a dignity 
of mind, superior to transitory trifles, or to create a calm-. 
* Heb. viii. 10. f Psal. xxvii. 1. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 349 



ness of temper, unalarmed by vulgar fears, unappalled 
by death itself. The Lord is my shepherd, says the same 
truly gallant and heroic personage ; therefore shall I 
lack nothing* How is it possible he should suffer want, 
who has the all-sufficient fulness for his supply ? So long 
as unerring wisdom is capable of contriving the means ; 
so long as uncontrollable power is able to execute them ; 
such a one cannot fail of being safe and happy, whether 
he continue amidst the vicissitudes of time, or depart 
into the unchangeable eternity. 

Here let us stand a moment, and humbly contemplate 
this great God, together with ourselves, in a relative 
view. If we reflect on the works of material nature, 
their number incomprehensible, and their extent un- 
measurable ; each of them apart, so admirably framed ; 
the connections of the whole so exquisitely regulated ; 
and all derived from one and the same glorious agent — 
if we recollect the far more noble accomplishments of 
elegant taste and discerning judgment, of refined affec- 
tions and exalted sentiments, which are to be found 
among the several orders of intelligent existence ; and 
all of them flowing, in rich emanations, from the one 
sole fountain of intellectual light — if we farther consider 
this author of material beauty and moral excellence, as 
a guardian, a governor, and benefactor to all his creatures ; 
supporting the whole system, and protecting each indi- 
vidual, by an ever-watchful Providence ; presiding over 
the minutest affairs, and causing all events to terminate 
in the most extensive good ; heaping, with unremitted 
liberality, his benefits upon every capable object, and 
making the circuit of the universe a seminary of happi- 
ness — is it possible for the human heart, under such 
captivating views, to be indifferent towards this most 
benign, most bountiful Original of being and of bliss ? 
Can any be so immersed in stupidity, as to say unto the 
Almighty, — in the language of an irreligious temper and 
licentious life, to say, a Depart from us ; we implore 
not thy favor, nor desire the knowledge of thy ways ? 
• Psal. xxiii. 1. 

30 



350 CONTEMPLATIONS 

Wonder, O heavens! be amazed, earth! and let the 
inhabitants of both express their astonishment at this 
unparalleled complication of disingenuous, ungrateful, 
destructive perverseness ! 

If we consider our fallen and imperfect state ; frail in 
our bodies, enfeebled in our minds, in every part of our 
constitution, and in all the occurrences of life, "like a 
tottering wall, or a broken hedge" — if we survey our 
indigent and infirm state, without holiness, without 
spiritual strength ; our possession of present conveni- 
ences entirely dependent on God's sovereign pleasure ; 
yea, forfeited, justly forfeited, with every future hope, 
by a thousand aggravated iniquities — if we add the 
various disasters of our condition ; agitated as we are by 
tumultuous passions, oppressed with dispiriting fears, 
held in suspense by a variety of perplexing* cares ; 
liable to pains, and exposed to troubles ; troubles from 
every quarter; troubles of every kind — Can we, amidst 
so many wants, under such deplorable infirmities, and 
subject to such disastrous accidents — can we be uncon- 
cerned, whether God's omnipotent, irresistible, all-con- 
ducting hand, be against 01 for us ? Imagination itself 
shudders at the thought ! Can we rest satisfied, without 
a well-grounded persuasion that we are reconciled to this 
supreme Lord, and the objects of his unchangeable 

* Perplexing. — Those who read the original language of the New 
Testament are sufficiently apprised, that such is the significancy of 
that benevolent dissuasive, urged by our Lord, fin fiEpinvare, — Matt. 
vi. 25. I beg leave, for the sake of the unlearned reader, to observe, 
that our translation, though for the most part faithful and excellent, 
has here misrepresented our divine Master's meaning. Take no 
thought for your food, for your raiment, for your bodily welfare, is 
not only not the true sense, but the very reverse of the Scriptural 
doctrine. We are required to take a prudent and moderate thought 
for the necessaries of life. The sluggard, who neglects this decent 
precaution, is severely reprimanded; is sent to one of the meanest 
animals, to blush for his folly, and learn discretion from her con- 
duct. — Prov. vi. 6. Our Saviour's precept, and the exact sense of 
his expression, is, Take no anxious thought; indulge no perplexing 
care ; no such care as may argue an unreasonable distrust of Provi- 
dence, or may rend and tear your minds with distressing, with per- 
nicious solicitude. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 351 



goodness ? If there be an abandoned wretch, whose 
apprehensions are so fatally blinded ; who is so utterly 
lost to all sense of his duty, and of his interest ; let me 
bewail his misery , while I abhor his impiety : bewail 
his misery, though popularity, with her choicest laurels, 
adorn his brow r ; though affluence, with her richest deli- 
cacies, load his table ; though half a nation, or half a 
world, conspire to call him happy. 

May I, by a believing application, solace myself in 
this everlasting Source of love, perfection, and joy ! 
Grant me this request, and I ask no more : Only, that I 
may expect, not with a reluctant anxiety, but with a 
ready cheerfulness, the arrival of that important hour, 
when this veil of flesh shall drop, and the shadows of 
mortality flee away : when I shall no longer complain 
of obscure knowledge, languid affections, and imperfect 
fruition — but shall see the uncreated and immortal 
Majesty : see him, not in this distant and unaffecting 
method of reasoning from his works, but with the most 
clear and direct intuition of the mind — when I shall love 
him, not with a cold and contracted spirit, but with the 
most lively and enlarged emotions of gratitude — when I 
shall incessantly enjoy the light of his countenance ; and 
be united, inseparably united, to his all-glorious God- 
head. Take, ye ambitious, unenvied and un Dosed, 
take to yourselves the toys of state. May I be e. <tbled 
to rejoice in this blessed hope, and to triumph in that 
, amiable, that adorable, that delightful name, the Lord 
my God ! and I shall scarce bestow a thought on the 
splendid pageantry of the world, unless it be to despise 
its empty pomp, and to pity its deluded admirers. 

All these bodies, though immense in their size, and 
almost infinite in their multitude, are obedient to the 
divine command. The God of wisdom "telleth their 
numbers," and is intimately acquainted with their vari- 
ous properties. The God of power " calleth them all 
by their names,-' and assigns them whatsoever office he 
pleases. He marshals all the starry legions with infi- 
nitely greater ease, and nicer order, than the most 



352 CONTEMPLATIONS 

expert general arranges his disciplined troops. — He 
appoints their posts ; he marks their route ; he fixes the 
time of their return. The posts which he appoints, they 
occupy without fail ; in the route which he settles, they 
persevere, without the least deviation ; and to the 
instant* which he fixes for their return, they are pre- 
cisely punctual. — He has given them a law, which, 
through a long revolution of ages, shall not be broken, 
unless his sovereign will interposes for its repeal. Then, 
indeed, the motion of the celestial orbs is controlled ; 
their action remains suspended; or their influence re- 
ceives a new direction. The sun, at his creation, issued 
forth with a command to travel perpetually through the 
heavens ; since which he has never neglected to perform 
the great circuit, rejoicing as a giant to "run his race." 
But, when it is requisite to accomplish the purposes of 
divine love, the orders are countermanded ; the flaming 
courier remits his career ; stands still in Gibcon ;f and, 
for the convenience of the chosen people, holds back 
the fallen day. The moon was dispatched with a charge, 
never to intermit her revolving course till day and night 
come to an end. But when the children of Providence 
are to be favored with an uncommon continuance of 
light, she halts in her march ; makes a solemn pause 
in the r .ley of Ajalon;\ and delays to bring on her 

* The planets, and all the innumerable host of heavenly bodies, 
perform their courses and revolutions with so much certainty and 
exactness, as never once to fail ; but, for almost 6000 years, come., 
constantly about to the same period, in the hundreth part of a 
minute. — Stackhouse's Hist. Bible. 

j* This is spoken in conformity to the Scripture language, and 
according to the common notion. With respect to the power which 
effected the alteration, it is much the same thing, and alike miracu- 
lous, whether the sun or the earth be supposed to move. 

t Josh, x. 12, 13 The prophet Habakkuk, according to his lofty 

manner, celebrates this event, and points out, in very poetical dic- 
tion, the design of so surprising a miracle : — The sun and moon stood 
still in their habitation: in the tight, the long-continued and miracu- 
lous light, thy arrows, edged with destruction, walked on their awful 
errand; in the clear shining of the day, protracted for this very pur- 
pose, thy glittering spear, launched by thy people, but guided by thy 
hand, sprung to its prey. — Bab. iii. 11. 



ON THE NIGHT. 353 



attendant train of shadows. — u When the enemies of the 
Lord are to be discomfited, the stars are levied into the 
service ; the stars are armed, and take the field ; the 
stars j in their courses, fought against Sisera."* 

So dutiful is material nature ! so obsequious, in all 
her forms , to her Creator's pleasure ! The bellowing 
thunders listen to his voice ; and the vollied lightnings 
observe the direction of his eye. The flying storm and 
impetuous whirlwind wear his yoke. The raging waves 
revere his nod : they shake the earth ; they dash the 
skies ; yet never offer to pass the limits which he has 
prescribed. Even the planetary spheres, though vastly 
larger than this wide-extended earth, are, in his hand, 
as clay in the hands of the potter. Though, swifter 
than the northern blast, they sweep the long tracts of 
aether, yet are they guided by his reins, and execute 
whatever he enjoins. All those enormous globes of 
central fire which beam through the boundless azure, in 
comparison of which an army of planets were like a 
swarm of summer insects ; those, even those, are con- 
formable to his will, as the melting wax to the impressed 
seal. Since all, all is obedient throughout the whole 
ascent of things, shall man be the only rebel against the 
Almighty Maker? Shall these unruly appetites reject 
his government, and refuse their allegiance ? Shall 

* Judg. v. 20 — The Scriptural phrase fought against, will, I hope, 
be a proper warrant for every expression I have used on this occa- 
sion. The passage is generally supposed to signify, that some very 
dreadful meteors (which the stars were thought to influence), such as 
fierce flashes of lightning, impetuous showers of rain, and rapid 
storms of hail, were employed by the Almighty to terrify, annoy, and 
overthrow the enemies of Israel. If so, there cannot be a more clear 
and lively paraphrase on the text, than those fine lines of a Jewish 
writer: — His severe wrath shall he sharpen for a sword; and the world 
shall fight with him against the ungodly. Then shall the right-aiming 
thunderbolts go abroad ; and from the clouds, as from a well-drawn 
bow, shall they fly to the mark. And hailstones, full of wrath, shall 
be cast out of a stone bow ; and the water of the sea shall rage against 
them; and the floods (as was the case of the river Kishon) shall 
cruelly drown them. Yea, a mighty wind shall stand up against 
them ; and, like a storm, shall blow them away. — Wisdom, v. 20 21 
22, 23. 

30* 



354 CONTEMPLATIONS 

these headstrong passions break loose from divine re- 
straint, and run wild, in exorbitant sallies, after their 
own imaginations? 

O my soul, be stung with remorse, and overwhelmed 
with confusion, at the thought ! Is it not a righteous 
thing, that the blessed God should sway the sceptre, 
with the most absolute authority, over all the creatures 
which his power has formed? especially over those crea- 
tures, whom his distinguishing favor has endued with 
the noble principle of reason, and made capable of a 
blissful immortality ? Sure, if all the ranks of inanimate 
existence conform to their Maker's decree by the neces- 
sity of their nature, this more excellent race of beings 
should pay their equal homage by the willing compliance 
of their affections.* Come then, all ye faculties of my 
mind ; come, all ye powers of my body ; give up your- 
selves, without a moment's delay, without the least 
reserve, to his governance. Stand, like dutiful servants, 
at his footstool, in an everlasting readiness to do what- 
soever he requires, to be whatsoever he appoints ; to 
further, with united efforts, the purposes of his glory in 
this earthly scene ; or else to separate without reluctance, 
at his summons : the one, to sleep in the silent dust ; the 

* This argument, I acknowledge, is not absolutely conclusive, but 
it is popular and striking; nor can I think myself obliged, in such a 
work, where fancy bears a considerable sway, to proceed always 
with the caution and exactness of a dlsputer in the schools. If there 
be some appearance of analogy between the fact and the inference, 
it seems sufficient for my purpose; though the deduction should not 
be necessary, nor the process strictly syllogistical. One of the 
apostolic fathers has an affecting and sublime paragraph, which runs 

entirely in this form : HXtoj t£ Kai aeXrjvrj, aarepuv rt \opoi, Kara rr\v hr\v 
diarayrjv avrov tv o^ovoia, 6i%a irao-rjs Trapeicft 'aaeoig, e^eXiaaoxriv ro"? tnrirerayjxs- 
vovs avrotg opiafiovg. The sun, the moon, and the starry choir, without 
ths least deviation, and with the utmost harmony, perform the revolu- 
tions appointed them by the supreme decree : from which remark, and 
abundance of other similar instances, observable in the economy of 
nature, he exhorts Christians to a cordial unanimity among them- 
selves, and a dutiful obedience to God. — Vid. Clem. Rom ax. 1. Ep. ad 
Corinth, sect. 20. 

See also a beautiful ode in Dr. Walls's Lyric Poems, intitled The 
Comparison and Complaint, which turns upon this very thought. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS 355 

other, to advance his honor in some remoter colony of 
his kingdom. Thus may I join with all the works of 
the Lord, in all the places of his dominion, to recognize 
his universal supremacy ; and proclaim him Sovereign 
of Souls, as well as Ruler of Worlds. 

At my first coming abroad, all these luminaries were 
eclipsed by the overpowering lustre of the sun : they 
were all placed in the very same stations, and played the 
same sprightly beams ; yet not one of them was seen. 
As the day-light wore away, and the sober shades ad- 
vanced, Hesperus, who leads the starry train, disclosed 
his radiant forehead, and catched my eye. While I 
stood gazing on his bright and beautiful aspect, several 
of his attendants peeped through the blue curtains. 
Scarce had I turned to observe these fresh emanations 
of splendor, but others dropped the veil, others stole into 
view. When lo ! faster and more numerous multitudes 
sprang from obscurity ; they poured in shining troops, 
and in sweet confusion, over all the empyrean plain ; 
till the firmament seemed like one vast constellation, 
and " a flood of glory burst from all the skies." 

Is not such the rise, and such the progress of a true 
conversion, in the prejudiced infidel, or inattentive sin- 
ner ? During the period of his vainer years, a thousand 
interesting truths lay utterly undiscovered ; a thousand 
momentous concerns were entirely disregarded ; but 
when divine grace dissipates the delusive glitter which 
dazzled his understanding and beguiled his affections, 
then he begins to discern, dimly to discern, the things 
which belong unto his peace. Some admonition of 
Scripture darts conviction into his soul, as the glimmer- 
ing of a star pierces the gloom of night : then, perhaps, 
another awful or cheering text impresses terror, or 
diffuses comfort : a threatening alarms his fears, or a 
promise awakens his hopes. This, possibly, is succeeded 
by some afflictive dispensation of Providence, and im- 
proved by some edifying and instructive conversation ; 
all which is established, as to its continuance, and 
enlarged, q$ tp its influence, by a diligent study of the 

30 



356 CONTEMPLATIONS 

sacred word. By this means, new truths continually 
pour their evidence ; scenes of refined and exalted, but 
hitherto unknown delight address him with their attract- 
ives ; new desires take wing ; new pursuits are set on 
foot ; a new turn of mind forms his temper ; a new 
habit of conversation regulates his life. In a word, old 
things are passed away, and all things become new : he, 
who was sometimes darkness, is now light, and life, and 
joy in the Lord. 

The more attentively I view the crystal concave, the 
more fully I discern the richness of its decorations. 
Abundance of minuter lights, which lay concealed from 
a superficial notice, are visible on a closer examination ; 
especially in those tracts of the sky which are called the 
Galaxy , and are distinguishable by a sort of milky path. 
There the stars are crowded, rather than disseminated : 
the region seems to be all on a blaze with their blended 
rays. Besides this vast profusion, which in my present 
situation the eye discovers, was I to make my survey 
from any other part of the globe, lying nearer the 
southern pole, I should behold a new choir of starry 
bodies, which have never appeared within our horizon. 
Was I (which is still more wonderful), either here or 
there, to view the firmament with the virtuoso's glass, I 
should find a prodigious multitude of flaming orbs, 
which, immersed in depths of aether, escape the keenest 
unassisted sight.* Yet, in these various situations, even 
w T ith the aid of the telescopic tube, I should not be able 
to descry the half, perhaps not a thousandth part of those 
majestic luminaries, which the vast expansive heavens 
contain.f So, the more diligently I pursue my search 

* Come forth, O man; yon azure round survey, 
And view those lamps, which yield eternal day. 
Bring forth thy glasses ; clear thy wond'ring eyes ; 
Millions beyond the former millions rise : 
Look farther ; millions more blaze from remoter skies. 
See an ingenious poem, intitled The Universe. 

f How noble, considered in this view, are the celebrations of the 
Divine Majesty, which frequently occur in the sacred writings 1 // 
is the Lord that made the heavens. — PsaL xcvi. 5. What a prodigious 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 357 

into those oracles of eternal truth, the Scriptures, I per- 
ceive a wider, a deeper, an ever-increasing fund of 
spiritual treasures. I perceive the brighter strokes of 
wisdom, and the richer displays of goodness ; a more 
transcendant excellency in the illustrious Messiah, and a 
more deplorable vileness in fallen man ! a more immacu- 
late purity in God's law, and more precious privilege in 
his Gospel. Yet, after a course of study ever so assid- 
uous, ever so prolonged, I should have reason to own 
myself a mere babe in heavenly knowledge ; or, at most, 
but a puerile proficient in the school of Christ. 

After all my most accurate inspection, those starry 
orbs appear but as glittering points. Even the planets, 
though so much nearer our earthly mansions, seem only 
like burning bullets. If, then, we have such imperfect 
apprehensions of visible and material things, how much 
more scanty and inadequate must be our notions of 
invisible and immortal objects! We behold the stars: 
though every one is incomparably bigger than the globe 
we inhabit, yet they dwindle, upon our survey, into the 
most diminutive forms. Thus, we see by faith the 
glories of the blessed Jesus ; the atoning efficacy of his 
death ; the justifying merit of his righteousness ; and the 
joys which are reserved for his followers. But alas! 
even our most exalted ideas are vastly below the truth : 
as much below the truth, as the report which our eyes 
make of those celestial edifices, is inferior to their real 
grandeur. Should we take in all the magnifying assis- 
tances which art has contrived, those luminous bodies 
would elude our skill, and appear as small as ever. 
Should an inhabitant of earth travel towards the cope 
of heaven, and be carried forwards, in his aerial journey, 
more than a hundred and sixty millions of miles ;* even 

dignity does such a sense of things give to that devout ascription 
of praise ! Thou, even thou, art Lord alone : thou hast made heaven 9 
the heaven of heavens, with all their host. — Neh. ix. 6. Examined by 
this rule, the beautiful climax in our inspired hymn is sublime 
beyond compare : Praise him sun and moon : praise him, all ye stars 
of light : praise him, ye heaven of heavens. — Psal. cxlviii. 3, 4. 

* This, incredible as it may seem, is not a mere supposition, but 



358 CONTEMPLATIONS 

in that advanced situation, those oceans of flame would 
look no larger than radiant specks. In like manner, con- 
ceive ever so magnificently of the Redeemer's honors, 
and of the bliss which he has purchased for his people; 
yet you will fall short. Raise your imagination higher ; 
stretch your invention wider ; give them all the scope 
which a soaring and excursive fancy can take ; still your 
conceptions will be extremely disproportionate to their 
genuine perfections. Vast are the bodies which roll in 
the expanse of heaven : vaster far are those fields of 
aether, through which they run their endless round : but 
the excellency of Jesus, and the happiness laid up for 
his servants, are greater than either ; than both ; than all. 
An inspired writer calls the former, " The unsearchable 
riches of Christ ;" and styles the latter, " An exceeding 
great and eternal weight of glory." 

If those stars are so many inexhaustible magazines of 
fire, and immense reservoirs of light, there is no reason 
to doubt but they have some very grand. uses y suitable 
to the magnificence of their nature. To specify, or 
explain, the particular purposes they answer, is alto- 
gether impossible in our present state of distance and 
ignorance : this, however, we may clearly discern ; they 
are disposed, in that very manner which is most pleasing 
and most serviceable to mankind. They are not placed 
at an infinite remove^ so as to lie beyond our sight ; 
neither are they brought so near our abode, as to annoy 
us with their beams. We see them shine on every 
side : the deep azure, which serves them as a ground, 
heightens their splendor ; at the same time, their in- 
fluence is gentle, and their rays are destitute of heat : 
so that we are surrounded with a multitude of fiery 
globes, which beautify and illuminate the firmament, 
without any risk, either to the coolness of our night, or 

a real fact : for, about the twenty-first of December, we are above 
160,000,000 of miles nearer the northern parts of the sky, than we 
were at the twenty-first of June ; and yet, with regard to the stars 
situated in that quarter, we perceive no change in their aspect, no* 
any augmentation of their magnitude. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. g^Q 

the quiet of our repose. Who can sufficiently admire 
that wondrous benignity, which, on our account, strews 
the earth with blessings of every kind, and vouchsafes to 
make the very heavens subservient to our delight ? 

It is not solely to adorn the roof of our palace with 
costly gildings, that God commands the celestial lumi- 
naries to glitter through the gloom : w T e also reap con- 
siderable benefits from their ministry. They divide our 
time, and fix its solemn periods. They settle the order 
of our works, and are, according to the destinations 
mentioned in sacred writ, " for signs and for seasons ; 
for days and for years." .The returns of heat and cold 
alone would have been too precarious a rule. But these 
radiant bodies by the variation, and also by the regularity 
of their motions, afford a method of calculating, abso- 
lutely certain, and sufficiently obvious. By this, the 
farmer is instructed when to commit his grain to the 
furrows, and how to conduct the operations of hus- 
bandry. By this, the sailor knows when to proceed 
on his voyage with least peril, and how to carry on the 
business of navigation with most success. 

Why should not the Christian, the probationer for 
eternity, learn from the same monitors, to number — for 
nobler purposes, to number his days; and duly to 
transact the grand, grand affairs of his everlasting salva- 
tion ? Since God has appointed so many bright mea- 
surers of our time, to determine its larger periods, and 
to minute down its ordinary stages ; sure, this most 
strongly inculcates its value, and should powerfully 
prompt us to improve it. Behold ! the supreme Lord 
marks the progress of our life in that most conspicuous 
calendar above. Does not such an ordination tell us, 
and in the most emphatical language, that our life is 
given for use, not for waste 6 } that no portion of it is 
delivered, but under a strict account ; that all of it is 
entered/ as it passes, in the divine register ; and, there- 
fore, that the stewards of such a talent are to expect a 
future reckoning ? Behold ! the very heavens are bidden 
to be the accomptants of our years, and months, and days. 



360 CONTEMPLATIONS 

! may this induce us to manage them with a vigilant 
frugality ; to part with them, as misers with their hoarded 
treasure, warily and circumspectly ; and, if possible, as 
merchants with their rich commodities, not without an 
equivalent, either in personal improvement or social 
usefulness ! 

How bright the starry diamonds shine ! The ambition 
of eastern monarchs could imagine no distinction more 
noble and sublime than that of being likened to those 
beaming orbs.* They form night's richest dress ; and 
sparkle upon her sable robe, like jewels of the finest 
lustre. Like jewels! I wrong their character : the lucid 
stone has no brilliancy ; quenched is the flame even of 
the golden topaz, compared with those glowing decora- 
tions of heaven. How widely are their radiant honors 
diffused ! No nation so remote, but sees their beauty, 
and rejoices in their usefulness. They have been admired 
by all preceding generations, and every rising age will 
gaze on their charms with renewed delight. How 
animating, then, is that promise made to the faithful 
ministers of the Gospel! " They that turn many to 
righteousness, shall shine as the stars for ever and 
ever.' r f Is not this a most winning encouragement, 
"to spend and be spent" in the service of souls? 
Methinks, the stars beckon, as they twinkle. Methinks, 
they show me their splendors, on purpose to inspire me 
with alacrity in the race set before me ; on purpose to 
enliven my activity in the work that is given me to do. 
Yes; ye majestic monitors, I understand your meaning. 
If honor has any charms ; if true glory, the glory which 
cometh from God, is any attractive ; you display the 
most powerful incitements to exercise all assiduity in 
my holy vocation. I will henceforth observe your inti- 
mation ; and, when zeal becomes languid, have recourse 
to your heavenly lamps, if so be I may rekindle its 
ardor at those inextinguishable fires. 

Of the Polar star it is observable, that while other 
luminaries alter their situation, this seems invariably 
* Num. xxiv. 17. Dan. viii. 10. f Dan. xii. 3. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 35^ 



fixed* While other luminaries now mount the battle- 
ments of heaven, and appear upon duty ; now retire 
beneath the horizon, and resign to a fresh set the 
watches of the night ; this never departs from its station. 
This, in every season, maintains an uniform position ; 
and is always to be found in the same tract of the 
northern sky. How often has this beamed bright intel- 
ligence on the sailor, and conducted the keel to its 
desired haven ! In early ages, those who went down to the 
sea in ships, and occupied their business in great waters, 
had scarce any other sure guide for their wandering 
vessel. This, therefore, they viewed with the most 
solicitous attention ; by this they formed their obser- 
vations, and regulated their voyage. When this was 
obscured by clouds, or enveloped in mists, the trembling 
mariner was bewildered on the watery waste ; his thoughts 
fluctuated as much as the floating surge, and he knew 
not where he was advanced, or whither he should steer. 
But, when this auspicious star broke through the gloom, 
it dissipated the anxiety of his mind, and cleared up his 
dubious passage : he re-assumed, with alacrity, the 
management of the helm, and was able to shape his 
course with some tolerable degree of satisfaction and 
certainty. 

Such, only much clearer in its light, and much surer 
in its direction, is the Holy Word of God to those 
myriads of intellectual beings, who are bound for the 
eternal shores ; who embarked in a vessel of feeble 
flesh, are to pass the waves of this tempestuous and 
perilous world. In all difficulties , those sacred pages 
shed an encouraging ray : in all uncertainties, they 
suggest the right determination, and point out the proper 
procedure. What is still a more inestimable advantage, 
they, like the star which conducted the Eastern sages, 
make plain the way of access to a Redeemer : they 

* I speak in conformity to the appearance of the object : for, though 
this remarkable star revolves round the pole, its motion is so slow, 
and the circle it describes so small, as to render both the revolution 
and change of situation hardly perceivable. 

31 



362 CONTEMPLATIONS 

display his unspeakable merits ; they discover the 
method of being interested in his great atonement ; and 
lead the weary soul, tossed by troubles, and shattered by 
temptations, to that only harbor of peaceful repose. Let 
us, therefore attend to this unerring directory, with the 
same constancy of regard as the seafaring man observes 
his compass. Let us become as thoroughly acquainted 
with this sacred chart, as the pilot is with every trusty 
mark that gives notice of a lurking rock, and with every 
opening road that yields a safe passage into the port. 
Above all, let us commit ourselves to this infallible guid- 
ance with the same implicit resignation ; let us conform 
our conduct to its exalted precepts with the same sedu- 
lous care ; as the children of Israel, when sojourning in 
the trackless desert, followed the pillar of fire, and the 
motion of the miraculous cloud. So will it introduce us, 
not into an earthly Canaan flowing with milk and honey, 
but into an immortal Paradise, where is the fulness of 
joy, and where are pleasures for evermore. It will intro- 
duce us into those happy, happy regions, where our sun 
shall no more go down, nor our moon withdraw itself; for 
the Lord shall be our everlasting light, and the days of our 
mourning, together with the fatigues of our pilgrimage, 
shall be ended* 

I perceive a great variety in the size and splendor 
of those gems of heaven. Some are of the first magni- 
tude, others of an inferior order. Some glow with 
intense flames, others glimmer with fainter beams. Yet 
all are beautiful ; all have their peculiar lustre, and 
distinct use ; all tend, in their different degrees, to 
enamel the cope of heaven, and embroider the robe of 
night. This circumstance is remarked by an author, 
whose sentiments are a source of wisdom, and the very 
standard of truth. u One star," says the apostle to the 
Gentiles, " differeth from another star in glory; so also 
is the resurrection of the dead." 

In the world above, are various degrees of happiness, 
various seats of honor. Some will rise to more illus- 
* Isa. lx. 20. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 353 

trious distinctions and richer joys;* some like vessels 
of ample capacity, will admit more copious accessions 
of light and excellence. Yet there will be no want, no 
deficiency, in any ; but a fulness both of divine satis- 
factions and personal perfections. Each will enjoy all 
the good, and be adorned with all the glory, that his 
heart can wish, or his condition receive. None will 
know what it is to envy. Not the least malevolence, 
nor the least selfishness, but everlasting friendship pre- 
vails, and a mutual complacency in each other's delight. 
Love, cordial love, will give every particular saint a 
participation of all the fruitions which are diffused 
through the whole assembly of the blessed. f No one 
eclipses, but each reflects light upon his brother. A sweet 
interchange of rays subsists, all enlightened by the great 
fountain, and all enlightening one another ; by which 
reciprocal communication of pleasure and amity, each 
will be continually receiving from y each inressantly 
adding to, the general felicity. 

Happy, supremely happy they who are admitted into 
the celestial mansions. Better to be a door-keeper in 
those " ivory palaces,":}: than to fill the most gorgeous 
throne on earth. The very lowest place at God's right 
hand is distinguished honor and consummate bliss. ! 
that we may, in some measure, anticipate that beatific 
state while we remain in our banishment below ! May 
we, by rejoicing in the superior prosperity of another, 
make it, our own ! and, provided the general result is 
narmony, be content, be pleased with, whatsoever part is 
assigned to our share, in the universal choir of affairs. 

While I am considering the heavenly bodies, I must 
not entirely forget those fundamental laws of our modern 
astronomy, projection and attraction ; one of which is the 

* 1 Cor. xv. 41, 42. — The great Mr. Mede, prefers the sense here 
given, and the learned Dr. Hammond admits it into his paraphrase 
vdioss joint authority, though far from excluding any other, yet is ? 
sufficient warrant for this application of the words. 

f Tolle invidiam, et tuum est quod habeo: tolle invidiam et meurr 
est quod habes. — Atjgustin. 

i Psal. xlv. 8. 



364 CONTEMPLATIONS 

all-combining cement, the other is the ever-operative 
spring of the mighty frame. In the beginning the all- 
creating fiat impressed a proper degree of motion on 
each of those whirling orbs ; which if not controlled, 
would have carried them on in straight lines and to 
endless lengths, till they were even lost in the abyss 
of space ; but the gravitating property being added 
to the projectile force, determined their courses to a 
circular form;* and obliged the reluctant rovers to 
perform their destined rounds. Were either of those 
causes to suspend their action, all the harmoniously 
moving spheres would be disconcerted, would degene- 
rate into sluggish inactive masses, and, falling into the 
central fire, be burnt to ashes ; or else, would exorbitate 
into wild confusion, and each, by the rapidity of its 
whirl, be dissipated into atoms. But the impulsive 
and attractive energy being most nicely attempered to 
each other, and, under the immediate operation of the 
Almighty, exerting themselves in perpetual concert, the 
various gh bes run their radiant races without the least 
interruption or the least deviation ; so as to create the 
alternate changes of day and night ; and distribute the 
useful vicissitudes of succeeding seasons ; so as to answer 
all the great ends of a gracious Providence, and to 
procure every comfortable convenience for universal 
nature. 

Does not this constitution of the material very natu- 

* I am aware the planetary orbs are not strictly circular, but 
rather elliptical. However, as they are but a small remove from the 
perfectly round figure, and partake of it incomparably more than 
the trajectories of the comets, I choose to represent the thing in this 
view: especially, because the notion of a circle is so much more 
intelligible to the generality of readers than that of an ellipsis ; and 
because I laid it down as a rule, not te admit any such abstruse sen- 
timent or difficult expression, as should demand a painful attention, 
instead of raising an agreeable idea. For which reason, I have 
avoided technical terms, have taken no notice of Jupiter f s satellites, 
or Saturn s ring ; have not so much as mentioned the names of the 
planets, nor attempted to wade into any depths of the science ; lest 
to those who have no opportunity of using the telescope, or of ac- 
quainting themselves with a system of astronomy, I should propound 
riddles, rather than display entertaining and edifying truths. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 365 

rally lead the thoughts to those grand principles of the 
moral and devotional world, faith and love*? These are 
often celebrated by the inspired apostle, as a compre- 
hensive summary of the Gospel.* These inspirit the 
breast, and regulate the progress of each private Christian. 
These unite the whole congregation of the faithful to 
God and one another : to God, the great centre in the 
bonds of gratitude and devotion ; to one another, by a 
reciprocal intercourse of brotherly affections and friendly 
offices. If you ask, why it is impossible for the true 
believer to live at all adventures, to stagnate in sloth, or 
habitually to deviate from duty ; we answer, it is owing 
to " his faith working by love. "f He assuredly trusts 
that Christ has sustained the infamy and endured the 
torment due to his sins. He firmly relies on that divine 
propitiation for the pardon of all his guilt, and humbly 
expects everlasting salvation, as the purchase of his 
Saviour's merits. This produces such a spirit of grati- 
tude, as refines his inclinations, and animates his whole 
behavior. He cannot, he cannot run to excess of riot, 
because love to his adorable Redeemer, like a strong 
but silken curb, sweetly restrains him ; he cannot, he 
cannot lie lulled in a lethargic indolence, because love 
to the same infinite Benefactor, like a pungent but 
endearing spur, pleasingly excites him. In a word, 
faith supplies the powerful impulse, while love gives the 
determining bias, and leads the willing feet through the 
whole circle of God's commandments. By the united 
efficacy of these heavenly graces, the Christian conduct 
is preserved in the uniformity and beauty of holiness, as 
by the blended power of those Newtonian principles, 
the solar system revolves in a steady and magnificent 
regularity. 

How admirable, how extensive how diversified, is 
the force of this single principle, attraction /J This 
penetrates the very essence of all bodies, and diffuses 
itself to the remotest limits of the mundane system. By 

* Col. i. 4. Philem. ver. 5. f Gal. v. 6. 

* I mean the attraction both of gravitation and cohesion, 

31* 



366 CONTEMPLATIONS 

this, the worlds impressed with motion, hang self- 
balanced on their centres :* and, though orbs of immense 
magnitude, require nothing but this amazing property 
for their support. To this we ascribe a phenomenon 
of a very different kind, the pressure of the atmosphere ; 
which, though a yielding and expansive fluid, yet con- 
stipated by an attractive energy, surrounds the whole 
globe, and encloses every creature as it were with a 
tight bandage ; an expedient this, absolutely necessary 
to preserve the texture of our bodies, and indeed to 
maintain every species of animal existence. Attraction ! 
Urged by this wonderful impetus, the rivers circulate, 
copious and unintermitted, among all the nations of the 
earth ; sweeping with rapidity down the steeps, or softly 
ebbing through the plains. Impelled by the same mys- 
terious force, the nutricious juices are detached from the 
soil, and, ascending the trees, find their way through 
millions of the finest meanders, in order to transfuse 
vegetative life into all the branches. This confines the 
ocean within proper bounds ; though the waves thereof 
roar, though they toss themselves with all the madness 
of indignant rage : yet, checked by this potent, this 
inevitable curb, they are unable to pass even the 
slightest barrier of sand. To this the mountains owe 
that unshaken firmness, which laughs at the shock of 
careering winds, and bids the tempest, with all its 
mingled horrors, impotently rave : by virtue of this 
invisible mechanism, without the aid of crane or pulley, 
or any instrument of human device, many thousand tons 
of water are raised every moment into the regions of the 
firmament: by this they continue suspended in thin air, 
without any capacious cistern to contain their substance, 
or any massy pillars to sustain their weight : by this 
same variously-acting power, they return to the place 
of their native residence, distilled in gentle falls of dew, 
or precipitated in impetuous showers of rain ; they slide 
into the fields in fleecy flights of snow, or are darted 
upon the houses in clattering storms of hail : this 

* Ponderibus librata suis. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 357 

occasions the strong cohesion of solid bodies ; without 
which our large machines could exert themselves with 
no vigor, and the nicer utensils of life would elude our 
expectations of service : this affords a foundation for all 
those delicate or noble mechanic arts, which furnish 
mankind with numberless conveniences both for orna- 
ment and delight: in short, this is the prodigious 
ballast, which composes the equilibrium, and constitutes 
the stability of things; this the great chain which forms 
the connections of universal nature ; and the mighty 
engine which prompts, facilitates, and, in good measure, 
accomplishes all her operations. What com/plicated effects 
from a single cause !* What profusion amidst frugality! 
an unknown profusion of benefits w r ith the utmost fru- 
gality of expense! 

And what is this attraction ? Is it a quality, in its 
existence, inseparable from matter ; and, in its acting, 
independent on the Deity ? Quite the reverse : it is the 
very finger of God ; the constant impression of divine 
power ; a principle, neither innate in matter, nor intel- 
ligible by mortals. Does it not, however, bear a con- 
siderable analogy to the agency of the Holy Ghost in the 
Christian economy ? Are not the gracious operations of 
the blessed Spirit thus extensive, thus admirable, thus 
various ? That Almighty Being transmits his gifts through 
every age, and communicates his graces to every adhe- 
rent of the Redeemer ; all, either of illustrious memory, 
or of beneficial tendency : in a word, " all the good that 
is done upon earth, he doth it himself." Strong in his 
aid, and in the power of his might, the saints of all times 
have trod vice under their feet, have triumphed over 
this abject world, and conversed in heaven while they 
dwelt on earth. Not J, but the grace of God which was 
with me,\ is the unanimous acknowledgment of them all. 
By the same kindly succors, the whole church is still 

* See another remarkable instance of this kind in the Reflections 
on a Flower Garden, page 157; together with a fine observation 
quoted in the corresponding note. 

f 1 Cor, xv. 10. 



368 CONTEMPLATIONS 

enlightened, quickened, and governed. Through his 
benign influences, the scales of ignorance fall from the 
understanding, the leprosy of evil concupiscence is 
purged from the will, and the fetters, the more than 
adamantine fetters, of habitual iniquity, drop off from the 
conversation. He breathes even upon dry bones,* and 
they live ; they are animated with faith, they pant with 
ardent and heavenly desire, they exercise themselves in 
all the duties of godliness. His real, though secret 
inspiration, dissolves the flint in the impenitent breast, 
and binds up the sorrows of the broken heart : raises the 
thoughts high in the elevations of holy hope, yet lays 
them low in the humiliations of inward abasement ; 
steels the soul with impenetrable resolutions and perse- 
vering fortitude, at the same time softens it into a dove- 
like meekness, and melts it in penitential sorrow. 

When I contemplate those ample and magnificent 
structures, erected over all the ethereal plains ; w T hen I 
look upon them as so many splendid repositories of light, 
or fruitful abodes of life ; when I remember that there 
may be other orbs, vastly more remote than those which 
appear to our unaided sight ; orbs, whose effulgence, 
though travelling ever since the creation, is not yet 
arrived upon our coasts :f when I stretch my thoughts to 

* See that beautiful piece of sacred and allegorical imagery dis- 
played, Ezek. xxxvii. 

f If this conjecture (which has no less a person than the cele- 
brated Mr. Huygens for its author) concerning unseen stars, be true ; 
if to this observation be added what is affirmed by our skilful 
astronomers, that the motion of the rays of light is so surprisingly 
swift as to pass through ten millions of miles in a single minute — 
how vast! beyond imagination vast and unmeasurable, are the 
spaces of the universe ! While the mind is distended with the 
grand idea, or rather, while she is dispatching her ablest powers of 
piercing judgment and excursive fancy, and finds them all drop 
short, all baffled by the amazing subject; permit me to apply that 
spirited exclamation, and noble remark : 

Say, proud arch, 

Built with divine ambition, in disdain 

Of limit built, built in the taste of heav'n ! 

Vast concave ! ample dome ! wast thou design'd 

A meet apartment for the Deity ? 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. '^QQ 

the; innumerable orders of being which inhabit all those 
spacious systems, from the loftiest seraph to the lowest 
reptile ; from the armies of angels which surround the 
throne of Jehovah, to the puny nations which tinge with 
blue the surface of the plum, or mantle the standing 
pool with green ;* — how various appear the links in this 
immense chain ! how vast the gradations in this universal 
scale of existence ! Yet all these, though ever so vast 
and various, are the work of God's hand, and are full of 
his presence^ 

He rounded in his palm those dreadfully large globes, 
which are pendulous in the vault of heaven. He kindled 
those astonishingly bright fires which fill the firmament 
with a flood of glory. By him they are suspended in 
fluid sether, and cannot be shaken ; by him they dispense 
a perpetual tide of beams, and are never exhausted. He 
formed, with inexpressible nicety, that delicately fine 
collection of tubes, that unknown multiplicity of subtle 
springs, which organize and actuate the frame of the 
minutest insect ; he bids the crimson current roll, the 
vital movements play, and associates a world of wonders, 
even in an animated point. f In all these is a signal 

Not so : that thought alone thy state impairs ; 
Thy lofty sinks, and shallows thy profound ; 
And straitens thy diffusive. 

Night Thoughts. 

* Ev'n the blue down the purple plum surrounds, 
A living world, thy failing sight confounds : 
To him a peoplecl habitation shows, 
Where millions taste the bounty God bestows. 

See a beautiful and instructive poem, styled Deity. 

\ There are living creatures, abundantly smaller than the mite, 
Mr. Bradley, in his Treatise on Gardening, mentions an insect, 
which, after accurate examination, he found to be a thousand times 
less than the least visible grain of sand. Yet such an insect, though 
quite imperceptible to the naked eye, is an elephant, is a whale, com- 
pared with other animalcules almost infinitely more minute, dis- 
covered by Mr. Lewenhoeck. If we consider the several limbs which 
compose such an organized particle, the different muscles which 
actuate such a set of limbs, the flow of spirits incomparably more 
attenuated which put those muscles in motion, the various fluids 
which circulate, the different secretions which are performed, together 



370 CONTEMPLATIONS 

exhibition of creating power ; to all these are extended 
the special regards of persevering goodness. From 
hence let me learn to rely on the providence, and to 
revere the presence, of the Supreme Majesty. 

To rely on his providence. — For amidst that incon- 
ceivable number and variety of beings which swarm 
through the regions of creation, not one is overlooked, 
not one is neglected, by the great omnipotent Cause of 
all. However inconsiderable in its character, or dimi- 
nutive in its size, it is still the production of the 
universal Maker, and belongs to the family of the 
Almighty Father. What though enthroned archangels 
enjoy the smiles of his countenance! Yet the low in- 
habitants of earth, the most despicable worms of the 
ground, are not excluded from his providential care. 
Though the manifestation of his perfections is vouch- 
safed to holy and intellectual essences, his ear is open to 
the cries of the young raven ; his eye is attentive to the 
wants and to the welfare of the very meanest births of 
nature. How much less then are his own people disre- 
garded ; those for whom he has delivered his beloved 
Son to death, and for whom he has prepared habitations 
of eternal joy ! They disregard ! No ; they are " kept 
as the apple of an eye ;" the very hairs of their head are 
all numbered. The fondest mother may forget the infant 
that is " dandled upon her knees," and sucks at her 
breast,* much sooner than the Father of everlasting 

with the peculiar minuteness of the solids before they arrive at their 
full growth ; net to mention other more astonishing modes of diminu- 
tion — sure, we shall have the utmost reason to acknowledge, that the 
adored Maker is Maximus in minimis, greatly glorious even in his 
smallest works. 

* Isa. xlix. 15. — Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she 
should not have compassion on the son of her womb ? Yea, they may 
forget ; yet will I not forget thee. How delicate and expressive are 
the images in this charming Scripture ! How full of beauty, if beheld 
in a critical, how rich with consolation, if considered in a believing 
view ! Can a woman ; one of the softer sex, whose nature is most 
impressible, and whose passions are remarkably tender ; can such 
a one, not barely disregard, but entirely forget ; not suspend her 
care for a while, but utterly erase the very memory of her child, her 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. ffi [ 



compassions can discontinue or remit his watchful tender- 
ness to his people, his children, his heirs. 

Let this teach me also a more lively sense of the 
divine presence. All the rolling worlds above, all the 
living atoms below, together with all the beings that 
intervene betwixt these wide extremes, are vouchers for 
an ever-present Deity. u God has not left himself with- 
out witness :" the marks of his footsteps are evident in 
every place, and the touches of his finger distinguishable 
in every creature. " Thy name is so high, thou all- 
supporting, all-informing Lord, and that do thy wondrous 
works declare.* Thy goodness warms in the morning 
sun, and refreshes in the evening breeze ; thy glory shines 
in the lamps of midnight, and smiles in the blossoms 
of spring. We see a trace of thy incomprehensible 
grandeur in the boundless extent of things ; and a sketch 
of thy exquisite skill in those almost evanescent sparks 
of life, the insect race." How stupid is this heart of 
mine, that, amidst such a multitude of remembrancers, 
thronging on every side, I should forget thee a single 

own child, not another's ; a child that was formed in her womb, and 
is a part of herself? Her son, the more important, and therefore, 
more desirable species, to whom it peculiarly belongs to preserve 
the name, and build up the family ] Her only son, for the word is 
singular, and refers to a case, where the offspring not being numer- 
ous, but centered in a single birth, must be productive of the fondest 
endearment; can she divest herself of all concern for such a child, 
not when he is grown up to maturity, or gone abroad from her house, 
but while he continues in an infantile state, and must owe his whole 
safety to her kind attendance ; while he lies in her bosom, rests on 
her arm, and even sucks at her beast? Especially if the poor inno- 
cent be racked with pain, or seized by some severe affliction, and so 
become an object of compassion, as well as of love ; can she hear 
its piercing cries, can she see it all restless, all helpless under its 
misery, and feel no emotions of parental pity] If one such monster 
of inhumanity might be found, could all, (here the prophet, to give 
his comparison the utmost energy, changes the singular number into 
the plural : it is not ^i OJ, or nnx CDJI, but nbtt D3) could all 
mothers be so degenerate] This, sure cannot be suspected, need 
not be feared. Much less need the true believer be apprehensive of 
the failure of my kindness. An universal extinction of those strongest 
affections of nature, is a more supposable case, than that I should 
ever be unmindful of my people, or regardless of their interests. 
* Psal. lxxv. 2. 



372 CONTEMPLATIONS 

moment ! Grant me, thou great I Am, thou source and 
support of universal existence ! — ! grant me an en- 
lightened eye, to discern thee in every object, and a 
devout heart, to adore thee on every occasion. Instead 
of living without God in the world, may I be ever with 
him, and see all things fall of him ! 
■ The glitt'ring stars, 



By the deep ear of meditation heard, 
Still in their midnight watches sing of him. 
He nods a calm. The tempest blows his wrath. 
The thunder is his voice ; and the red flash 
His speedy sword of justice. At his touch 
The mountains flame. He shakes the solid earth, 
And rocks the nations. Nor in these alone, 
In evry common instance God is seen. 

Thomson's Spring. 

If the beautiful spangles, which a clear night pours on 
the beholder's eyes ; if those other fires, which beam in 
remoter skies, and are discoverable only by that reve- 
lation to the sight, the telescope ; if all those bright 
millions are so many fountains of day, enriched with 
native and independent lustre, illuminating planets, and 
enlivening systems of their own ;* what pomp, how 
majestic and splendid, is disclosed in the midnight 
scene ! What riches are disseminated through all those 
numberless provinces of the great Jehovah's empire ! 
Grandeur beyond expression ! Yet, there is not the 
meanest slave, but carries greater wealth in his own 
bosom, possesses superior dignity in his own person. 
The soul, that informs his clay ; the soul, that teaches 
him to think, and enables him to choose : that qualifies 
him to relish rational pleasure, and to breathe sublime 
desire ;| — the soul, that is endowed with such noble 

* Consult with reason; reason will reply, 
Each lucid point which dwells in yonder sky, 
Informs a system in the boundless space, 
And fills with glory its appointed place ; 
With beams unborrow'd brightens other skies, 
And worlds, to thee unknown, with heat and life supplies. 

The Universe. 
f In this respect, as vested with such capacities, the soul even of 
fallen man, has an unquestionable greatness and dignity ; is majestic^ 
though in ruin. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 373 



faculties; and, above all, is distinguished with the 
dreadful, the glorious capacity, of being pained or 
blessed for ever ; this soul surpasses in worth, whatever 
the eye can see ; whatever of material the fancy can 
imagine. Before one such intellectual being, all the 
magnificence of unintelligent creation becomes poor and 
contemptible.* For this soul, Omnipotence itself has 
waked and worked through every age. To convince this 
soul, the fundamental laws of nature have been con- 
trolled, and the most amazing miracles have alarmed all 
the ends of the earth. To instruct this soul, the 
wisdom of heaven has been transfused into the sacred 
page, and missionaries have been sent from the Great 
King, who resides in light unapproachable. To sanctify 
this soul, the Almighty Comforter takes the wings of a 
dove ; and, with a sweet transforming influence, broods 
on the human heart. And ! to redeem this soul from 
guilt ; to rescue it from hell ; the heaven of heavens was 
bowed, and God himself came down to dwell in dust. 

Let me pause a while upon this important subject. 
What are the schemes which engage the attention of 
eminent statesmen and mighty monarchs, compared with 
the grand interests of an immortal soul ? The support 
of commerce, and the success of armies, though ex- 
tremely weighty affairs ; yet, if laid in the balance 
against the salvation of a soul, are lighter than the 
downy feather poised against talents of gold. To save 
a navy from shipwreck, or a kingdom from slavery, are 
deliverances of the most momentous nature which the 
transactions of mortality can admit. But O ! how they 
shrink into an inconsiderable trifle, if (their aspect upon 

* I beg leave to transcribe a pertinent passage, from that cele- 
brated master of reason and universal literature, Dr. Bentley ; whom 
no one can be tempted to suspect, either tinctured with enthusiasm, 
or warped to bigotry. "If we consider, ,, says he, "the dignity of 
an intelligent being, and put that in the scale against brute and in- 
animate matter, we may affirm, without overvaluing human nature, 
that the soul of one virtuous and religious man is of greater worth 
and excellency, than the sun, and his planets, and all the stars in the 
world." — See his Sermons at Boyle's Led., No* 8. 

32 



374 CONTEMPLATIONS 



immortality forgot) they are set in competition with the 
delivery of a single soul, from the anguish and horrors 
of a distressed eternity !* 

Is such the importance of the soul ? What vigilance 
then can be too much; or rather what holy solicitude 
can be sufficient, for the overseers of the Saviour's flock, 
and the guardians of this great, this venerable, this 
invaluable charge ? Since such is the importance of the 
soul, wilt thou not, man, be watchful for the preser- 
vation of thy own ? shall every casual incident awaken 
thy concern ; every transitory toy command thy regard ; 
and shall the welfare of thy soul, a work of continual 
occurrence, a work of endless consequence, sue in vain, 
for thy serious care ? Thy soul, thy soul, is thy all. If 
this be secured, thou art greatly rich, and wilt be 
unspeakably happy. If this be lost, a whole world 
acquired will leave thee in poverty ; and all its delights 
enjoyed, will abandon thee to misery. 

I have often been charmed, and awed at the sight of 
the nocturnal heavens ; even before I knew how to con- 
sider them in their proper circumstance of majesty and 
beauty. Something, like magic, has struck my mind, on 
a transient and unthinking survey of the aethereal vault ; 
tinged throughout with the purest azure, and decorated 
with innumerable starry lamps. I have felt, I know 
not what, powerful and aggrandizing impulse, which 
seemed to snatch me from the low entanglements of 
vanity, and prompted an ardent sigh for sublimer objects. 
Methought I heard, even from the silent spheres, a 
commanding call, to spurn the abject earth, and pant 
after unseen delights. Henceforward, I hope to imbibe 
more copiously this moral emanation of the skies ; when, 
in some such manner as the preceding, they are rationally 
seen, and the sight is duly improved. The stars, I trust, 
will teach as well as shine; and help to dispel, both 

* Not all yon luminaries quench'd at once, 
Were half so sad as one benighted mind, 
Which gropes for happiness, and meets despair. 

Night Thoughts. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 375 

nature's gloom, and my intellectual darkness. To some 
people, they discharge no better a service than that of 
holding a flambeau to their feet, and softening the 
horrors of their night. To me and my friends, may they 
act as ministers of a superior order ; as counsellors of 
wisdom, and guides to happiness ! Nor will they fail to 
execute this nobler office, if they gently light our way 
into the knowledge of their adored Maker ; if they 
point out, with their silver rays, our path to his beatific 
presence. 

I gaze, I ponder. I ponder, I gaze ; and think 
ineffable things. I roll an eye of awe and admiration. 
Again and again I repeat my ravished views, and can 
never satiate either my curiosity or my inquiry. I 
spring my thoughts into this immense field, till even 
fancy tires upon her wing : I find wonders, ever new ; 
wonders more and more amazing. Yet, after all my 
present inquiries, what a mere nothing do I know; by all 
my future searches, how little shall I be able to learn of 
those vastly distant suns, and their circling retinue of 
worlds ! Could I pry with Newton's piercing sagacity, 
or launch into his extensive surveys; even then, my 
apprehensions would be little better than those dim and 
scanty images, which the mole, just emerged from her 
cavern, receives on her feeble optic — This, sure, should 
repress all impatient or immoderate ardor to pry into 
the secrets of the starry structures, and make me more 
particularly careful to cultivate my heart. To fathom 
the depths ci the Divine Essence ; or to scan universal 
nature, with a critical exactness ; is an attempt, which 
sets the acuiest philosopher very nearly on a level with 
the idiot ; since it is almost, if not altogether, as imprac- 
ticable by the former as by the latter. 

Be it, then, my chief study, not to pursue what is 
absolutely unattainable ; but rather to seek, w T hat is 
obvious to find, easy to be acquired, and of inestimable 
advantage when possessed. ! let me seek that charity, 
which edifieth ;* that faith, which purifieth. Love, 

• 1 Cor. xiii. 1. — I need not inform my reader, that in this text, in 



376 CONTEMPLATIONS 

humble love, not conceited science, keeps the door of 
heaven. Faith, a child-like faith in Jesus j not the 
haughty self-sufficient spirit, which scorns to be ignorant 
of any thing ; presents a key 1 * to those abodes of bliss. 
This present state is the scene destined to the exercise of 
devotion ; the invisible world is the place appointed for 
the enjoyment of knowledge. There, the dawn of our 
infantile minds will be advanced to the maturity of 
perfect day ; or, rather, there our midnight shades will 
be brightened into all the lustre of noon. There, the 
souls which come from the school of faith, and bring 
with them the principles of love, will dwell in light 
itself; will be obscured with no darkness at all ; will 
know, even as they are known. f Such an acquaintance, 
therefore, do I desire to form, and to carry on such a 
correspondence with the heavenly bodies, as may shed 
a benign influence on the seeds of grace implanted in 
my breast. Let the exalted tracks of the firmament sink 
my soul into deep humiliation; let those eternal fires 
kindle in my heart an adoring gratitude to their Almighty 
Sovereign ; let yonder ponderous and enormous globes, 
w T hich rest on his supporting arm, teach me an unshaken 
affiance in their incarnate Maker. Then shall I be 
—if not wise as the astronomical adept, yet wise unto 
salvation. 

Having now w r alked and worshipped in this universal 

that admirable chapter, 1 Cor. xiii., and in various other passages of 
Scripture, the word Charity should by no means be confined to the 
peculiar act of almsgiving, or external beneficence. It is of a much 
more exalted and extensive nature. It signifies that divinely pre- 
cious grace, which warms the soul with supreme love to God, and 
enlarges it with disinterested affection for men ; which renders it the 
reigning care of the life, and chief delight of the heart, to promote 
the happiness of the one, and the glory of the other. This, this is 
that charity of which so many excellent things are every where 
spoken; which can never be too highly extolled, or too earnestly 
coveted, since it is the image of God, and the very spirit of heaven. 

* The righteousness of Christ. This is what Milton beautifully 
styles 

The golden key 

That opes the palace of eternity. 

f 1 Cor. xiii. 12. 



ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 377 



temple, that is arched with skies, emblazed with stars, 
and extended even to immensity ; having cast an eye, 
like the enraptured patriarch,* an eye of reason and 
devotion, through the magnificent scene ; with the former, 
having discovered an infinitude of worlds ; and with the 
latter, having met the Deity in every view ; having 
beheld, as Moses in the flaming bush, a glimpse of 
Jehovah's excellencies, reflected from the several planets, 
and streaming from myriads of celestial luminaries ; 
having read various lessons in that stupendous Book of 
Wisdom,] where unmeasurable sheets of azure compose 
the page, and orbs of radiance write in everlasting 
characters, a comment on our creed — what remains, but 
that I close the midnight solemnity, as our Lord con- 
cluded his grand sacramental institution, with a song 
of praise ? And behold a hymn, suited to the sublime 
occasion, indited by inspiration itself,! transferred into 
our language by one of the happiest efforts of human 
ingenuity. || 

The spacious firmament on high, 
With all the blue sethereal sky, 
And spangled heav'ns, a shining frame, 
Their great Original proclaim: 
Th' unwearied sun from day to day, 
Does his Creator's pow'r display ; 
And publishes to ev'ry land, 
The work of an Almighty hand. 

Soon as the ev'ning shades prevail, 
The moon takes up the wondrous tale; 
And nightly, to the listening earth, 
Repeats the story of her birth : 
While all the stars, that round her burn. 
And all the planets in their turn, 
Confirm the tidings as they roll, 
And spread the truth from pole to pole. 

* Gen. xv. 5. 

-j- For heaven 

Is as the book of God before thee set, 
Wherein to read his wondrous works. 

Milton - . 
$ Psal. xix. 
1 Addison, Spect. vol. vi. No. 465. 

32* 



378 



CONTEMPLATIONS, Sec, 



What though, in solemn silence, all 
Move round the dark terrestrial ball 1 
What though, no real voice nor sound 
Amid their radiant orbs be found; 
In reason's ear they all rejoice, 
And utter forth a glorious voice, 
Forever singing as they shine, 
The hand that made us, is divine. 




WINTER-PIECE. 




WINTER-PIECE. 




IS true, in the delightful seasons, 
his tenderness and his love are 
most eminently displayed. In the 
vernal months, all is beauty to the 
eye, and music to the ear. The 
clouds drop fatness ; the air softens 
into balm; and flowers, in rich 
abundance, spring wherever we 
w tread, bloom wherever we look. 
A^dsT^the burning heats of summer, he 
expands the leaves, and thickens the shades. 
He spreads the cooling arbor to receive us, 
and awakes the gentle breeze to fan us ; the 
moss swells into a couch for the repose or 
our bodies, while the rivulet softly rolls and 
sweetly murmurs, to soothe our imagination. 



382 A WINTER-PIECE. 

In autumn, his bounty covers the fields with a profusion 
of nutrimental treasure, and bends the boughs with loads 
of delicious fruit ; he furnishes his hospitable board with 
present plenty, and prepares a copious magazine for 
future wants. But is it only in these smiling periods 
of the year, that God, the all-gracious God, is seen ? 
Has winter, stern winter, no tokens of his presence ? 
Yes ; all things are eloquent of his praise. " His way 
is in the whirlwind." Storms and tempests fulfil his 
word, and extol his power. Even piercing frosts bear 
witness to his goodness, while they bid the shivering 
nations tremble at his wrath. Be winter then, for a 
while, our theme. * Perhaps, those barren scenes may 
be fruitful of intellectual improvement. Perhaps, that 
rigorous cold, which binds the earth in icy chains, may 
serve to enlarge our hearts, and warm them with holy 
love. 

See! how the day is shortened! The sun, detained 
in fairer climes, or engaged in more agreeable services, 
rises, like an unwilling visitant, with tardy and reluctant 
steps. He walks, with a shy indifference, along the 
edges of the Southern sky ; casting an oblique glance, 
he just looks upon our dejected world, and scarcely scat- 
ters light through the thick air. Dim is his appearance, 
languid are his gleams, while he continues. Or, if he 
chance to wear a brighter aspect, and a cloudless brow ; 
yet, like the young and gay in the house of mourning, 
he seems uneasy till he is gone ; is in haste to depart. 
And let him depart. Why should we wish for his 
longer stay, since he can show us nothing but the crea- 
tion in distress ? The flowery families lie dead, and the 

* A sketch of this nature, I must acknowledge, is quite different 
from the subject of the book, and I cannot but declare, was as far 
distant from the thoughts of the author. But the desire of several 
acquaintance, together with an intimation of its usefulness, by a 
very polite letter from an unknown hand, prevailed with me to add a 
few descriptive touches and improving hints, on what is so often 
experienced in these northern regions. I hope,' the attempt I have 
made to oblige these gentlemen, will obtain the approbation, or at 
least, the excuse, of my other readers. 



A WINTER-PIECE. 3S3 



tuneful tribes are struck dumb. The trees, stripped of 
their verdure, and lashed by storms, spread their naked 
arms to the enraged and relentless heavens. Fragrance 
no longer floats in the air ; but chilling damps hover, or 
cutting gales blow. Nature, divested of all her beautiful 
robes, sits, like a forlorn disconsolate widow, in her 
weeds; while wn>tis in doleful accents howl, and rains 
in repeated showtrrs weep. 

We regret not, therefore, the speedy departure of the 
day. When the room is hung with funeral black, and 
dismal objects are all round, who would desire to have 
the glimmering taper kept alive ; w T hich can only dis- 
cover spectacles of sorrow, can only make the horror 
visible ? And, since this mortal life is little better than 
a continual conflict with sin, or an unremitted struggle 
with misery ; is it not a gracious ordination which has 
reduced our age to a span ? Fourscore years of trial for 
the virtuous are sufficiently long ; and more than such a 
term, allowed to the wicked, would render them beyond 
all measure vile. Our way to the kingdom of heaven 
lies through tribulations. Shall we then accuse, shall 
w r e not rather bless, the Providence which has made the 
passage short ? Soon, soon we cross the vale of tears, 
and then arrive o*> the happy hills, where light forever 
shines, where joy iorever smiles. 

Sometimes ih< day is rendered shorter still, is almost 
blotted out froia the year.* The vapors gather, they 
thicken into an impenetrable gloom, and obscure the 
face of the sky. U length, the rains descend, the sluices 
of the firmament -re opened, and the low-hung clouds 
pour their congicgated stores. Copious and uninter- 
mitted, still they ^ v/ur, and still are unexhausted. The 
waters drop incessantly from the eaves, and rush in rapid 
streams from the spouts. They roar along the channelled 
pavements^ and stand in foul shallows amidst the village 
streets. Now. if the inattentive eye or negligent hand 



Invotvere diem nimbi, et nox humida caelum, 
Abstulit. — Vihgil. 



384 A WINTER-PIECE. 

has left the roof but scantily covered, the insinuating 
element finds its way into every flaw, and, oozing through 
the ceiling, at once upbraids and chastises the careless 
inhabitant. "The ploughman, soaked to the skin, leaves 
his half-tilled acre. The poor poultry, dripping with 
wet, crowd into shelter. The tenants of the bough fold 
up their wings, afraid to launch into the streaming air. 
The beasts, joyless and dispirited, ruminate under their 
sheds. The roads swim, and the brooks swell. The 
river, amidst all this watery ferment, long contained itself 
within its appointed bounds ; but, swollen by innumer- 
able currents, and roused, at last, into uncontrollable 
rage, bursts over its banks, shoots into the plain, bears 
down all opposition, spreads itself far and wide, and 
buries the meadow under a brown, sluggish, soaking 
deluge. 

How happy for man, that this inundation comes, 
when there are no flowery crops in the valley to be 
overwhelmed ; no fields standing thick with corn to be 
laid waste ! At such a juncture, it would have been 
ruin to the husbandman and his family ; but, thus timed, 
it yields manure for his ground, and promises him riches 
in reversion. How often, and how long, has the Divine 
Majesty borne with the most injurious affronts from 
sinners ! His goodness triumphed over their perverse- 
ness, and graciously refused to be exasperated. But, 
presumptuous creatures, multiply no longer your provo- 
cations. Urge not, by repeated iniquities, the Almighty 
arm to strike; lest his long-suffering cease, and his 
fierce anger break forth ; break forth, like a flood of 
waters,* and sweep you away into irrecoverable and 
everlasting perdition. 

How mighty! how majestic ! andO! how mysterious, 
are thy works, thou God of heaven and Lord of nature ! 
When the air is calm, where sleep the stormy winds ? 
In what chambers are they reposed, or in what dungeons 
confined ; till thou art pleased to awaken their rage, and 
throw open their prison doors ? Then, with irresistible 
* Hos. v. 10. 



A WINTER-PIECE. 385 

impemosity they fly forth, scattering dread and menacing 
destruction. 

The atmosphere is hurled into the most tumultuous 
confusion. The aerial torrent bursts its way over moun- 
tains, seas, and continents. All things feel the dreadful 
shock. All things tremble before the furious blast. 
The forest j vexed and torn, groans under the scourge. 
Her sturdy sons are strained to the very root, and almost 
sweep the soil they were wont to shade. The stubborn 
oak, that disdains to bend, is dashed headlong to the 
ground : and, w r ith shattered arms, with prostrate trunk, 
blocks the road ; while the flexile reed, that springs up 
in the marsh, yielding to the gust, (as the meek and 
pliant temper to injuries, or the resigned and patient 
spirit to misfortunes,) eludes the force of the storm, and 
survives amidst the wide spread havoc. 

For a moment, the turbulent and outrageous sky 
seems to be assuaged ; but it intermits its wrath, only 
to increase its strength. Soon the sounding squadrons 
of the air return to the attack, and renew their ravages 
with redoubled fury. The stately dome rocks amidst 
the wheeling clouds. The impregnable tower totters on 
its basis ; and threatens to overwhelm, whom it was 
intended to protect. The ragged rock is rent in pieces ;* 
and even the hills, the perpetual hills, on their deep 
foundations, are scarcely secure. Where, now, is the 
place of safety, when the city reels, and houses become 
heaps ? Sleep affrighted flies. Diversion is turned into 
horror. All is uproar in the element ; all is consterna- 
tion among mortals ; and nothing but one wide scene of 
rueful devastation through the land. Yet, this is only 
an inferior minister of divine displeasure ; the execu- 
tioner of milder indignation. How then, ! how will the 
lofty looks of man be humbled, and the haughtiness of 
men be bowed down ;f when the Lord God Omnipotent 

* 1 Kings, xix. 11. 

•j- Mortalia corda 

Per gentes humilis stravit pavor. 

One Vould almost imagine, that Virgil had read Isaiah, and bor- 

S3 



386 " A WINTER-PIECE; 

shall meditate terror — when he shall set all his terrors in 
array — when he arises, to ju^ge the nations, and to shake 
terribly the earth ! 

The ocean swells with tremendous commotions. The 
ponderous waves are heaved from their capacious bed, 
and almost lay bare the unfathomable deep. Flung into 
the most rapid agitation, they sweep over the rocks ; 
they lash the lofty cliffs ; and toss themselves into the 
clouds. Navies are rent from their anchors ; and, with 
all their enormous load, are whirled, swift as the arrow, 
wild as the winds, along the vast abyss. Now they 
climb the rolling mountain ; they plough the frightful 
ridge, and seem to skim the skies. Anon, they plunge 
into the opening gulf; they lose the sight of day ; and 
are lost themselves to every eye. How vain is the 
pilot's art ! how impotent the mariner's strength ! They 
reel to and fro, and stagger in the jarring hold ; or cling 
to the cordage, while bursting seas foam over the deck. 
Despair is in every face, and death sits threatening on 
every surge. But why, O ye astonished mariners, why 
should you abandon yourselves to despair ? Is the 
Lord's hand shortened, because the waves of the sea 
rage horribly ? Is his ear deafened- by the roaring 
thunders and the bellowing tempest? Cry, cry unto 
him, who " holdeth the winds in his fist, and the waters 
in the hollow of his hand." He is all gracious to hear, 
and almighty to save. If he command, the storm shall 
be hushed to silence ; the billows shall subside into a 
calm ; the lightnings shall lay their fiery bolts aside ; 
and, instead of sinking in a watery grave, you shall find 
yourselves brought to the desired haven. 

rowed his ideas from chap. ii. ver. 11 : the humilis and stravit of the 
one so exactly correspond with the humbled— bowed — down — of the 
other. But, in one circumstance, the prophet is very much superior 
to the poet. The prophet, by giving a striking contrast to his senti- 
ments, represents them with incomparably greater energy. He says 
not, men in the gross, or the human heart in general ; but men of the 
most elated looks ; hearts big with the most arrogant imaginations ; 
even these shall stoop from their supercilious heights ; even these 
shall grovel in the dust of abasement, and shudder with all the ex- 
tremes of an abject pusillanimity. 



A WINTER-PIECE. 387 



Sometimes, after a joyless day a more dismal night 
succeeds. The lazy, lowering vapors had wove so thick 
a veil, as the meridian sun could scarcely penetrate. 
What gloom then must overwhelm the nocturnal hours ! 
The moon withdraws her shining. Not a single star b 
able to struggle through the deep arrangement of shades. 
All is pitchy darkness, without one enlivening ray. How 
solemn ! how awful ! 'Tis like the shroud of nature, 
or the return of chaos. I don't wonder that it is the 
parent of terrors, and so apt to engender melancholy. 
Lately, the tempest marked its rapid way with mischief ' > 
now the night dresses her silent pavilion with horror. 

I have sometimes left the beaming tapers, withdrawn 
from the ruddy fire, and plunged into the thickest of 
these sooty shades, without regretting the change, rather 
exulting in it as a welcome deliverance. The very 
gloom was pleasing, was exhilarating, compared with 
the conversation I quitted. The speech of my com- 
panions (how does it grieve me, that I should even once 
have occasion to call them by that name !) was the lan- 
guage of darkness ; was horror to the soul, and torture 
to the ear. Their teeth were spears and arrows, and their 
tongue a sharp sword, to stab and assassinate their 
neighbor's character. Their throat was an open sepulchre, 
gaping to devour the reputation of the innocent, or 
tainting the air with their virulent and polluted breath. 
Sometimes, their licentious and ungovernable discourse 
shot arrows oiprofaneness against heaven itself; and, in 
proud defiance, challenged the resentment of Omnipo- 
tence. Sometimes, as if it was the glory of human 
nature to cherish the grossest appetites of the brute, or 
the mark of a gentleman to have served an apprentice- 
ship in a brothel ; the filthiest jests of the stews (if low 
obscenity can be a jest) were nauseously obtruded on the 
company. All the modest part were offended and 
grieved ; while the other besotted creatures laugbed 
aloud, though the leprosy of uncleanness appeared on 
their lips. Are not these persons prisoners of darkness ; 
though blazing sconces pour artificial day through their 



388 A WINTER-PIECE. 



rooms? Are not their souls immured in the most 
baleful shades ; though the noontide sun is brightened, 
by flaming on their gilded chariots ? They discern not 
that great and adorable Being, who fills the universe 
with his infinite and glorious presence ; who is all eye 
to observe their actions, all ear to examine their words. 
They know not the all- sufficient Redeemer, nor the 
unspeakable blessedness of his heavenly kingdom. They 
are groping for the prize of happiness, but will certainly 
grasp the thorn of anxiety. They are wantonly sporting 
on the brink of a precipice ; and are every moment in 
danger of falling headlong into irretrievable ruin and 
endless despair. 

They have forced me out, and are, perhaps, deriding 
me in my absence ; are charging my reverence for the 
ever-present God, and my concern for the dignity of our 
rational nature, to the account of humor and singularity, 
to narrowness of thought or sourness of temper. Be it 
so. I will indulge no indignation against them. If any 
thing like it should arise, I will convert it into prayer — ■ 
" Pity them* thou Father of Mercies! — Show them the 
madness of their profaneness ! Show them the baseness 
of their vile ribaldry! Let their dissolute rant be turned 
into silent sorrow and confusion ; till they open their 
lips to adore thine insulted majesty, and to implore thy 
gracious pardon ; till they devote to thy service, those 
social hours, and those superior faculties, which they 
are now abusing — to the dishonor of thy name — to the 
contamination of their own souls — and (unless timely 
repentance intervene) to their everlasting infamy and 
perdition." 

I ride home amidst the gloomy void. All darkling 
and solitary, I can scarce discern my horses head ; and 
only guess out my blind road. No companion but 
danger, or perhaps " destruction ready at my side."* 
But why do I fancy myself solitary? Is not the Father 
of Lights, the God of my life, the great and everlasting 
Friend, always at my right hand ? Because the day is 
* Job, xviii. 12. 



A WINTER-PIECE. 389 



excluded, is his Omnipresence vacated ? Though I 
have no earthly acquaintance near, to assist in case of a 
misfortune ; or to beguile the time, and divert uneasy 
suspicions, by entertaining conferences ; may I not lay 
my help upon the Almighty, and converse with God by 
humble supplication ? For this exercise, no place is im- 
proper, no hour unseasonable, and no posture incommo- 
dious. This is society, the best of society, even in soli- 
tude. This is a fund of delights, easily portable, and 
quite inexhaustible : a treasure this, of unknown value ; 
liable to no hazard from wrong or robbery; but perfectly 
secure to the lonely wanderer in the most darksome paths. 

And why should I distress myself with apprehensions 
of peril ? This access to God is not only an indefeasible 
privilege, but a kind of ambulatory garrison. Those 
who make known their requests unto God, and rely 
upon his protecting care, he gives his angels charge 
over their welfare. His angels are commissioned to 
escort them in their travelling, and to hold up their 
goings, that they dash not their foot against a stone.* 
Nay, he himself condescends to be their guardian, and 
" keeps all their bones, so that not one of them is 
broken." Between these persons and the most mis- 
chievous objects, a treaty of peace is concluded. The 
articles of this grand alliance are recorded in the book 
of revelation ; and will, when it is for the real benefit 
of believers, assuredly be made good in the administra- 
tion of providence. In that day, saith the Lord, will I 
make a covenant for them with the beasts of the field, and 
with the fowls of heaven, and with the creeping things of 
the ground; and they sJiall be in league vnth the stones of 
the field.] Though they fall headlong on the flints, even 
the flints, fitted to fracture the skull, shall receive them 
as into the arms of friendship, and not offer to hurt 
whom the Lord is pleased to preserve. 

May I then enjoy the presence of this gracious God, 
and darkness and light shall both be alike. Let him 
whisper peace to my conscience ; and this dread silence 

* Psal. xci. 11, 12. f Job, v. 23. Hos. ii. 18. 

33* 



390 A WINTER-PIECE. 



shall be more charming than the voice of eloquence, or 
the strains of music. Let him reveal his ravishing per- 
fections in my soul ; and I shall not want the saffron 
beauties of the morn, the golden glories of noon, or the 
impurpled evening sky. I shall sigh only for those 
most desirable and distinguished realms, where the light 
of his countenance perpetually shines ; and, consequently, 
" there is no night there."* 

How surprising are the alternations of nature ! I left 
her, the preceding evening, plain and unadorned. But 
now a thick rime has shed its hoary honors over all. It 
has shagged the fleeces of the sheep, and crisped the 
traveller's locks. The hedges are richly fringed, and 
all the ground is profusely powdered. The downward 
branches are tasselled with silver, and the upright are 
feathered with the plumy wave. 

The Jine are not always the valuable. The air, amidst 
all these gaudy decorations, is charged with chilling and 
unwholesome damps. The raw, hazy influence spreads 
wide, sits deep, hangs heavy and oppressive on the 
springs of life. A listless languor clogs the animal func- 
tions, and the purple stream glides but faintly through 
its channels. In vain, the ruler of the day exerts his 
beaming powers ; in vain, he attempts to disperse this 
insurrection of vapors. The sullen, malignant cloud 
refuses to depart. It envelopes the world, and intercepts 
the prospect. I look abroad for the neighboring village ; 
I send my eye in quest of the rising turret ; but am 
scarce able to discern the very next house. Where are 
the blue arches of heaven ? Where is the radiant 
countenance of the sun ? Where the boundless scenes 
of creation ? Lost, lost are their beauties, quenched 
their glories. The thronged theatre of the universe 
seems an empty void, and all its elegant pictures an 
undistinguished blank. Thus would it have been with 
our intellectual views, if the Gospel had not come in to 
our relief. We should have known, neither our true 
good, nor real evil. We had been a riddle to ourselves; 
• Rev. xxi. 25 



A WINTER-PIECE. 391 

the present state all confusion, and the future impene- 
trable darkness. But the Sun of Righteousness, arising 
with potent and triumphant beams, has dissipated the 
interposing cloud, has opened a prospect more beautiful 
than the blossoms of spring, more cheering than the 
treasures of autumn, and far more enlarged than the 
extent of the visible system ; which, having led the eye 
of the mind through fields of grace, over rivers of 
righteousness, and hills crowned with knowledge, ter- 
minates at length in the heavens, sweetly losing itself in 
regions of infinite bliss and endless glory. 

As I walk along the fog, it seems, at some little 
distance, to be almost solid gloom ; such as would shut 
out every glimpse of light, and totally imprison me in 
obscurity. But w T hen I approach, and enter it, I find 
myself agreeably mistaken, and the mist much thinner 
than it appeared. Such is the case with regard to the 
sufferings of the present life ; they are not, when ex- 
perienced, so dreadful as a timorous imagination sur- 
mised. Such also is the case with reference to the 
gratifications of sense : they prove not, when enjoyed, so 
substantial as a sanguine expectation represented. In 
both instances we are graciously disappointed. The 
keen edge of the calamity is blunted, that it may not 
wound us with incurable anguish : the exquisite relish 
of the prosperity is palled, that it may not captivate our 
affections, and enslave them to inferior delights. 

Sometimes, \he face of things wears a more pleasing 
form ; the very reverse of the foregoing. The sober 
evening advances, to close the short-lived day. The 
firmament, clear and unsullied, puts on its brightest blue. 
The stars, in thronging multitudes, and with a peculiar 
brilliancy, glitter through the fair expanse ; w T hile the 
frost pours its subtile and penetrating influence all 
around. Sharp and intensely severe, all the long night 
the rigid aether continues its operations. When, late and 
slow, the morning opens her pale eye, in what a curious 
and amusing disguise is nature dressed ! The icicles, 
jagged and uneven, are pendent on the houses. A 



392 A WINTER-PIECE. 



whitish film incrusts the windows, where mimic land- 
scapes rise, and fancied figures swell. The fruitful fields 
are hardened to iron ; the moistened meadows are con- 
gealed to marble ; and both resound (an effect unknown 
before) with the peasant's hasty tread. The stream is 
arrested in its career, and its ever-flowing surface 
chained to the banks. The fluid paths become a solid 
road : where the finny shoals were wont to rove, the 
sportive youth slide, or the rattling chariots roll.* And, 
(what would seem, to an inhabitant of the southern 
world, as unaccountable as the deepest mysteries of our 
religion,) that very same breath of heaven, which cements 
the lakes into a crystal pavement, cleaves the oaks as it 
were with invisible wedges ; " breaks in pieces the 
northern iron, and the steel," even while it builds a 
bridge of icy rock over the seas.f 

The air is all serenity. Refined by the nitrous par- 
ticles, it affords the most distinct views and extensive 
prospects. The seeds of infection are killed, and the 
pestilence destroyed, even in embryo. So, the cold of 
affliction tends to mortify our corruptions, and subdue 
our vicious habits. The crowding atmosphere con- 
stringes our bodies, and braces our nerves. The spirits 
are buoyant, and sally briskly on the execution of their 
office. In the summer months, such an unclouded sky, 
and so bright a sun, would have melted us with heat, 
and softened us into supineness. We should have been 
ready to throw our limbs under the spreading beech, 
and to lie at ease by the murmuring brook. But, now, 
none loiters in his path ; none is seen with folded arms. 
All is in motion ; all is activity. Choice, prompted by 

* Undaque jam tergo ferratos sustinet orbes, 
Puppibus ilia prius patulis, nunc hospita plaustris : 
JEraque dissiliunt vulgo. Virgil. 

f Job, xxxviii. 30. — The waters are hid, locked up from the 
cattle's lips, and secured from the fisher's net, as wells were wont to 
be closed w'th a ponderous and impenetrable stone,- and not only 
lakes and rivers, but the surface of the great deep, with its restless 
and uncontrollable surges, is taken captive, n3 t ?n , > by the frost and 
bound in shining fetters. 



A WINTER-PIECE. 393 

the weather supplies the spur of necessity. Thus, the 
rugged school of misfortune often trains up the mind to 
a vigorous exertion of its faculties. The bleak climate 
of adversity often inspirits us with a manly resolution ; 
when a soft and downy affluence, perhaps, w T ould have 
relaxed all the generous springs of the soul, and 
have left it enervated with pleasure, or dissolved in 
indolence. 

" Cold cometh out of the north." The winds, having 
swept those deserts of snow, arm 'themselves with mil- 
lions of frozen particles, and make a fierce descent upon 
our isle. Under black and scowling clouds, they drive, 
dreadfully whizzing, through the darkened air: they 
growl around our houses, assault our doors, and, eager 
for entrance, fasten on our windows. Walls can scarce 
restrain them, bars are unable to exclude them ; through 
every cranny they force their way. Ice is on their wings ; 
they scatter agues through the land; and winter, all 
winter, rages as they go. Their breath is as a searing 
iron* to the little verdure left in the plains: vastly more 
pernicious to the tender plants than the sharpest knife ; 
they kill their branches, and wound the very root. Let 
not the corn venture to peep too freely from the entrench- 
ment of the furrow ; let not the fruit-bearing blossoms 
dare to come abroad from their lodgment in the bark ; 
lest these murderous blasts intercept and seize the 
unwary strangers, and destroy the hopes of the advancing 
year. 

O, 'tis severely cold ! Who is so hardy, as not to 
shrink at this excessively pinching weather ? See ! every 
face is pale : even the blooming cheeks contract a gelid 
hue ; and the teeth hardly forbear chattering. Ye that 
sit easy and joyous amidst your commodious apartments, 

* This, I suppose, is the meaning of that figurative expression 
used by the prophet Habakkuk ,• who, speaking of the Chaldeans in- 
vading Judea, says : " Their faces, or the incursions they make, shall 
sup up, shall swallow greedily, shall devour utterly, the inhabitants 
of the country, and their valuable effects; as the keen, corroding 
blasts of the east wind destroy every green thing in the field." — 
Hub. i. 9. 



/ 



394 A WINTER-PIECE. 

solacing yourselves in the diffusive warmth of your fire, 
be mindful of your brethren in the cheerless tenements 
of poverty. Their shattered panes are open to the 
piercing winds : a tattered garment scarcely covers their 
shivering flesh ; while a few faint and dying embers on 
the squalid hearth rather mock their wishes than warm 
their limbs. While the generous juices of Oporto sparkle 
in your glasses ; or the streams, beautifully tinged and 
deliciously flavored with the Chinese leaf, smoke in the 
elegant porcelain ; O remember, that many of your 
fellow-creatures, amidst all the rigor of these inclement 
skies, are emaciated with sickness, benumbed with age, 
and pining with hunger. Let " their loins bless you" 
for comfortable clothing ; restore them with medicine ; 
regale them with food ; and baffle the raging year. So 
may you never, know any of their distresses, but only by 
the hearing of the ear, the seeing of the eye, or the 
feeling of a tender commiseration ! Methinks, the bitter 
blustering winds plead for the poor indigents. May 
they breathe pity into ycmr breasts, while they blow 
hardships into their huts! Observe those blue flames 
and ruddy coals in your chimney : quickened by the 
cold, they look more lively, and glow more strongly : 
silent but seasonable admonition to the gay circle that 
chat and smile around them ! Thus may your hearts, at 
such a juncture of need, kindle into a peculiar benevo- 
lence ! ' Detain not your superfluous piles of wood : let 
them hasten to the relief of the starving family. Bid 
them expire in many a willing blaze to mitigate the 
severity of the season, and cheer the bleak abodes of 
want. So shall they ascend, mingled with thanks- 
givings to God, and ardent prayers for your welfare — 
ascend, more grateful to Heaven than columns of the 
most costly incense. 

Now the winds cease. Having brought their load, 
they are dismissed from service. They have wafted an 
immense cargo of clouds, which empty themselves in 
snow. At first, a few scattered shreds come wandering 
down the saddened sky. This slight skirmish is sue- 



A WINTER-PIECE. 395 



ceeded by a general onset. The flakes, large and 
numerous, and thick wavering, descend. They dim the 
air, and hasten the approach of night. Through all the 
night, in softest silence, and with a continual flow, this 
fleecy shower falls. In the morning, when we awake, 
what a surprising change appears ! Is this the same 
world ? Here is no diversity of color ! I can hardly 
distinguish the trees from the hills on which they grow. 
Which are the meadows, and which the plains ? Where 
are the green pastures, and where the fallow lands ? All 
things lie blended in bright confusion ; so bright, that it 
heightens the splendor of day, and even dazzles the 
organs of sight. The lawn is not so fair as this snowy 
mantle which invests the fields ; and even the lily, were 
the lily to appear, would look tarnished in its presence. 
I can think of but one thing which excels or equals the 
glittering robe of winter. Is any person desirous to 
know my meaning? He may find it explained in that 
admirable hymn* composed by the royal penitent. Is 
any desirous to possess this matchless ornament? He 
will find it offered to his acceptance in every page of the 
Gospel. 

See ! (for the eye cannot satisfy itself without viewing 
again and again the curious, the delicate scene,) see ! 
how the hedges are habited like spotless vestals ! The 
houses are roofed with uniformity and lustre ; the mea- 
dows are covered with a carpet of the finest ermine ;f 
the groves bow beneath the lovely burden ; and all, all 
below, is one wide, immense, shining w r aste of white. 
By deep snows, and heavy rains, God sealeth up the hand 
of every man; and for this purpose, adds our sacred 
philosopher, that all men may know his work.\ He 

* Can any thing be whiter than snow] Yes, saith David; if 
God be pleased to wash me from my sins in the blood of Christy 1 
shall be even whiter than snow. — Psal. li. 7. See page 311. 

f This animal is milk-white. As for those black spots which wp 
generally see in linings of ermine, they are added by the furrier, in 
order to diversify the appearance, or heighten the beauty, of uV 
native color. 

4 Job, xxxvii. 7. 



i 



396 A WINTER- PIECE. 

confines them within their doors, and puts a stop to their 
secular business, that they may consider the things 
which belong to their spiritual welfare ; that, having a 
vacation from their ordinary employ, they may observe 
the works of his power, and become acquainted with the 
mysteries of his grace. 

And worthy, worthy of all observation, are the works 
of the great Creator. They are prodigiously various, 
and perfectly amazing. How pliant and ductile is 
nature under his forming hand ! At his command, the 
self-same substance assumes the most different shapes, 
and is transformed into an endless multiplicity of figures. 
If he ordains, the water is moulded into hail, and dis- 
charged upon the earth like a volley of shot ; or it is 
consolidated into ice, and defends the rivers, " as it were 
with a breast-plate." At the bare intimation of his will, 
the very same element is scattered in hoar-frost, like a 
sprinkling of the most attenuated ashes ; or is spread 
over the surface of the ground, in these couches of 
swelling and flaky down. 

The snow, however it may carry the appearance of 
cold, affords a warm garment for the corn ; screens it 
from nipping frosts, and cherisheth its infant growth. It 
will abide for a while, to exert a protecting care, and 
exercise a fostering influence ; then, touched by the sun, 
or thawed by a softening gale, the furry vesture melts 
into genial moisture, sinks deep into the soil, and satu- 
rates its pores with the dissolving nitre ; replenishing 
the glebe with those principles of vegetative life which 
will open into the bloom of spring, and ripen into the 
fruits of autumn. Beautiful emblem this, and comfort- 
able representation of the divine word, both in the 
successful and advantageous issue of its operation ! 
" As the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, 
and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and 
maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to 
the sower, and bread to the eater ; so shall my word be, 
that goeth forth out of my mouth; it shall not return 
unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I 



A WINTER-PIECE. 39? 

please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I 
sent it. 5 '* 

Nature at length puts ofF her lucid veil. She drops it 
in a trickling thaw. The loosened snow rolls in sheets 
from the houses ; various openings spot the hills, which, 
even while we look, become larger and more numerous. 
The trees rid themselves, by degrees, of the hoary 
encumbrance ; shook from the springing boughs, part 
falls heavy to the ground, part flies abroad in shining 
atoms. Our fields and gardens, lately buried beneath 
the drifted heaps, rise plain and distinct to View. Since 
we see nature once again, has she no verdant traces, no 
beautiful features left ? They are, like real friends, very 
rare ; and therefore the more particularly to be regarded, 
the more highly to be valued. Here and there the holly 
hangs out her glowing berries ; the laurustinus spreads 
her graceful tufts ; and both under a covert of unfading 
foliage. The plain but hardy ivy clothes the decrepit, 
crazy wall ; nor shrinks from the friendly office, though 
the skies frown, and the storm roars. The laurel, firm, 
erect, and bold, expands its leaf of vivid green. In 
spite of the united, the repeated attacks of wind, and 
rain, and frost, it preserves an undismayed lively look, 
and maintains its post, while withering millions fall 
around; worthy, by vanquishing the rugged force of 
winter, worthy to adorn the triumphant conqueror's 
brow. Nor must I forget the bay tree, which scorns to 
be a mean pensioner on a few transient sunny gleams ; 
or, with a servile obsequiousness, to vary its appear- 
ance in conformity to the changing seasons: by such 
indications of sterling worth and stanch resolution 
reading a lecture to the poet's genius, while it weaves 
the chaplet for his temples. These, and a few other 
plants, clad with native verdure, retain their comely 
aspect in the bleakest climes and in the coldest 
months. 

Such, and so durable, are the accomplishments of a 



* Isa.lv. 10,11. 



34 



398 A WINTER-PIECE. 

refined understanding and an amiable temper. The 
tawdry ornaments of dress, which catch the unthinking 
vulgar, soon become insipid and despicable : the rubied 
lip and the rosy cheek fade : even the sparkling wit,* 
as w r ell as the sparkling eye, please but for a moment. 
But the virtuous mind has charms which survive the 
decay of every inferior embellishment ; charms which 
add to the fragrancy of the flower, the permanency of the 
evergreen. 

Such, likewise, is the happiness of the sincerely reli- 
gious ; like a tree, says the inspired moralist, " whose 
leaf shall not fall." He borrows not his peace from 
external circumstances ; but has a fund within, and is 
ic satisfied from himself, "f Even though impoverished 
by calamitous accidents, he is rich in the possession of 
grace, and richer in the hope of glory. His joys are 
infinitely superior to, as well as nobly independent on, 
the transitory glow of sensual delight, or the capricious 
favors of what the world calls fortune. 

If the snow composes the light-armed troops of the 



* " How little does God esteem the things that men count great ; 
the endowments of wit and eloquence, that men admire in some ! 
Alas ! how poor are they to him ! He respecteth not any who are 
wise in heart; they are nothing, and less than nothing, in his eyes. 
Even wise.men admire, how little it is that men know; how small a 
matter lies under the sound of these popular wonders, « a learned 
man, a great scholar, a great statesman/ How much more doth the 
all-wise God meanly account of these ! He often discovers, even 
to the world, their meanness. He befools them. So valor, or birth, 
or worldly greatness, these he gives, and gives as things he makes 
no great reckoning of, to such as shall never see his face: and cails 
to the inheritance of glory, poor despised creatures, that are looked 
on as the offscourings and refuse of the world." 

Thus, says an excellent author, who writes with the most 

amiable spirit of benevolence, with the most unaffected air of 
humility, and, like the sacred originals from which he copies, with 
a majestic simplicity of style ; whose select works I may venture to 
recommend, not only as a treasure, but as a mine of genuine, ster- 
ling, evangelical piety. See page 520 of Archbishop Leighton's 
Select Works, the Edinburgh edition, octavo ; which it is necessary 
to specify, because the London edition does not contain that part of 
his writings which has supplied me with the preceding quotation. 

f Prov. xiv. 14. 



A WINTER-PIECE. 399 

sky, methinks the hail constitutes its heavy artillery.* 
When driven by a vehement wind, with what dreadful 
impetuosity does that stony shower fall ! How it re- 
bounds from the frozen ground, and rattles on the 
resounding dome ! It attenuates the rivers into smoke, 
or scourges them into foam. It crushes the infant 
flowers, cuts in pieces the gardener's early plants, and 
batters the feeble fortification of his glasses into shivers. 
It darts into the traveller's face ; he turns with haste 
from the stroke, or feels on his cheek for the gushing 
blood. If he would retreat into the house, it follows 
him even thither ; and, like a determined enemy that 
pushes the pursuit, dashes through the crackling 
panes. 

But the fierce attack is quickly over : the clouds have 
soon spent their shafts, soon unstrung their bow. Happy 
for the inhabitants of the earth, that a sally so dread- 
fully furious should be so remarkably short! What else 
could endure the shock, or escape destruction ? 

But, behold a bow, of no hostile intention ! — a bow, 
painted in variegated colors on the disburdened cloud. 
How vast is the extent, how delicate the texture, of that 
showery arch! It compasseth the heavens with a glo- 
rious circle, and teaches us to forget the horrors of the 
storm. Elegant its form, and rich its tincture, but more 
delightful its sacred significancy. While the violet and 
the rose blush in its beautiful aspect, the olive-branch 
smiles in its gracious import. It writes, in radiant dyes, 
what the angels sang in harmonious strains, " Peace on 
earth, and good-will towards men." It is the stamp of 
insurance, for the continuance of seedtime and harvest, 
for the preservation and security of the visible world ;f 

* He casteth forth his ice like morsels. — Psal. cxlvii. 17 ; which, in 
modern language might be thus expressed : He poureth his hail like 
a volley of shot. The word tDTID, inadequately translated morsels, 
alludes, I think, to those fragments of the rock, or those smooth 
stones from the brook, which in the day of battle, the warriors 
hurled from their slings. 

f Gen. ix. 12—16. 



400 A WINTER-PIECE. 

it is the comfortable token* of a better state, and a 
happier kingdom — a kingdom, where sin shall cease, 
and misery be abolished ; where storms shall beat, 
and winter pierce no more ; but holiness, happiness, 
and joy, like one unbounded springy for ever, ever 
bloom. 

• Rev. ir. 3 



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we are bound to mention the man whose name is a household word — Matthew 
Henry." 

Rev. Dr. Wm. M. Taylor says: "Among the valuable homiletical commenta- 
ries is Matthew Henry's, which sparkles with jewels of wisdom and incisive 
humor." 

Rev. T. L. Cuyler, D. D., says : " Next to wife and children has lain near the 
minister's heart the pored-over and prayed-over copy of his Matthew Henry, king 
of all Bible explorers yet." 

Rev. Dr. Archibald Alexander says: "Taking it as a whole, and as adapted 
to every class of readers, this Commentary may be said to combine more excellence 
than any other work of the kind that was ever written in any language." 

GUIDE TO FAMILY DEVOTION. By the Rev. Alexander 
Fletcher, D. D. Royal quarto, with 10 steel plates (half morocco, 
$7.50; Turkey morocco, $12), cloth, gilt, and gilt edges, $5,00. 

" The more we look over the volume the more we admire it, and the more 
heartily feel to commend it to families and devout Christians. It is emphatically a 
book of devotion, from the standpoint of an intelligent, broad-minded Christian 
minister, who has here expressed many of the deepest emotions and wants of the 
soul. The selections of Scripture and the hymns are all admirably adapted to 
increase devotion; and the prayers are such as can but aid the suppliant, even 
when not uttered from his precise standpoint, and are especially valuable to many 
heads of families who find it difficult to frame words for themselves in conducting 
family worship. " — Journal and Messenger. 

RYLE ON THE GOSPELS. 7 vols., i2mo 10.50 

Matthew, $1.50. Mark, $1.50. Luke, 2 vols., $3.00. John, 3 vols., $4.50. 

" Those who are engaged in teaching others will find in them a treasury, full 0^ 
edifying and instructive suggestions." — Episcopal Register, 



KITTO'S BIBLE ILLUSTRATIONS. 8 vols., i2mo, 
in a box, with complete index 7.00 

" I cannot lose this opportunity of recommending, in the strongest language 
and most emphatic manner I can command, this invaluable series of books. I 
believe for the elucidation of the historic parts of Scripture, there is nothing com- 
parable with them in the English br any other language." — J. A. James. 

DR. HODGE'S COMMENTARIES. 4 vols. . . 7.00 

Corinthians, 2 vols., $3.50. Romans, $1.75. Ephesians, $1.75. 
"Dr. Hodge's Commentaries ought to be in the hands of all readers of the 
Bible, in families, in Sabbath-schools and Seminaries." — Observer. 

HODGE'S (DR. A. A.) OUTLINES OF THEOLOGY. 
8vo 3.00 

* DR. McCOSH'S WORKS. 5 vols., 8vo, uniform. Brown 
cloth 10.00 

* MURDOCH'S MOSHEIM'S ECCLESIASTICAL 
HISTORY. 3 vols, in one 3.00 

♦POOL'S ANNOTATIONS UPON THE HOLY 
BIBLE. 3 vols., 8vo 7.50 

♦THE WORKS OF PRESIDENT EDWARDS. 4 
vols., 8vo 6.00 

THE BOOK OF JOB. Illustrated. With fifty engrav- 
ings after drawings by John Gilbert. In morocco, $7.50; 
half calf, $6.00 ; cloth, gilt 4.50 

COWPER'S TASK. Illustrated. With sixty superb de- 
signs by Birket Foster. Printed on fine tinted paper ; 
elegantly bound in cloth, gilt 3.50 

GRAY'S ELEGY. Illustrated pocket edition. Gilt edges. .50 

VOICES OF HOPE AND GLADNESS. By Ray 

Palmer, D. D. Illustrated. i2mo, gilt * 1.50 

SONGS OF THE SOUL. By Dr. Prime. Quarto, gilt. 5.00 

Cheaper edition, i2mo $2.00. 

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